


My Stepmother Is A Delian

by Dr_Hoffmans_Mechanic, fishbone76



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F, Femslash, Found Family, Phoibe's alive, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-28 14:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 330,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20065342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Hoffmans_Mechanic/pseuds/Dr_Hoffmans_Mechanic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishbone76/pseuds/fishbone76
Summary: At the start of I Will Camp At The Banks Of The Styx For You, we pretty much just landed right in the middle of a relatively established relationship, Kassandra, Kyra and Phoibe all getting along like a house on fire most of the time.But how did they get there?We decided to investigate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once again this is very much a collaboration between fishbone76 and me. Although I may do the composing and physical typing, the story wouldn’t be here without her.
> 
> And a grateful shout out to cookswhoa who posted a comment to another story that sort of sparked the initial idea for something along these lines...even though I suspect this isn't "quite" what they had in mind when they made their comment 
> 
> I mentioned the original idea to fishbone76 one night and she skillfully steered it in this direction. She’s very good at that. For me, she’s pretty much the perfect springboard as a writing partner. Just enough resistance to steer me away from bad ideas and prevent me from plunging into a quagmire of disconnected plot holes. Just enough spring to elevate a decent idea to a good idea, and a good idea to a better one.
> 
> She’s awesome.

It was a noise that woke Kyra, she was sure of that. But as she lay face down, eyes closed, ears straining, she could hear nothing. Absolutely nothing.

No bird song, no chatter from the staff below the open windows, not a breath of wind, not Kassandra’s soft snores, not the general ambient noise of the villa at work. For a moment she wondered if she’d somehow lost her hearing as she slept, for she must have been sleeping to have woken in this position, surely? After a moment’s tense consideration she cleared her throat softly and was relieved to hear her own slight cough.

Something was wrong though she thought, as she opened her eyes. Her vision seemed blurred, everything was dim with a strange, soft, mustard coloured cast. And she was cold. Deathly cold. She didn’t recall the day having been cold, far from it. She’d climbed into bed naked if she remembered correctly. The day had been warm in fact, the evening sultry and Kassandra’s return meant that the bed would be furnace-like.

Kyra shifted her head a little and blinked to clear her vision. Her arm was clothed. She recognised the fabric of the faded blue chiton that she only ever wore when off duty. But she couldn’t recall wearing that, not for a few days, much less finding and putting it on last night.

Shaking her head in an effort to clear it, she began to get up. She’d been half expecting to uncover some injury. Perhaps she’d fallen. Had she been out hunting or riding and taken a tumble? But she felt totally uninjured. Physically she felt fine, apart from the gnawing cold. Mentally though? Her brain was foggy and slow, an undercurrent of panic simmering.

She got herself into a sitting position and rubbed her face, blinking again. Her vision was still fogged. Or so she thought for a moment. 

Bringing her hands up right in front of her face though, she found that she could see them clearly. She could make out the thin silvery lines of scar tissue against her dark skin, the remnants of old combat injuries. Her palms were dusty and there was a thin line of dirt underneath her neatly trimmed fingernails. All the result of scrambling to sit up, she reasoned. 

There was nothing wrong with her vision. Or her hearing. She snapped her fingers just to confirm once more. The sound rang out, then died immediately.

Sitting here was doing her no favours. The cold was seeping into her bones. She needed to get up, find out where she was.

Once on her feet she looked about her, turning in a slow circle, glancing up as she did so. Even the sky was fogged with the mustard coloured mist. No sun, no clouds, not a breath of air. 

A volcano? She remembered overhearing Praxos and a visiting merchant discussing something about this a couple of years ago. How the fumes and ash from an active crater could shroud the whole land in a noxious mist, could even blot out the sun. But surely volcanic fog would smell? 

She took a deep breath, expecting harsh fumes, but there was nothing. No, wait! Not quite nothing. She sniffed again. The faintest hint of decay, of something rotting.

She turned a bit more quickly this time, examining the ground as she did so, looking for any sign of corpses, animal or human. There was nothing. Nothing as far as the eye could see. Kyra had to admit that she had no idea how far that was, the mist made it impossible to gauge distance. 

One thing was for sure. She couldn’t stay here. There was no sign of water, no indication of animal or plant life, apart from the faint suggestive odour. She would die of thirst or starvation long before the cold took her.

She examined herself, took count of her resources and quickly realised that they totaled zero. She had on the well worn chiton and a pair of light sandals that she only ever wore around the villa. They were too light and flimsy for walking any distance. It was that or take them off and walk barefoot though. More concerning was the fact that she was completely unarmed.

Why on earth would she have left the villa like this? Inadequately dressed, unarmed, without food or water. She clearly hadn’t intended to embark on an excursion.

Had she been kidnapped? 

Unlikely as it seemed at first thought, there had been whispers of discontent over the past few weeks. Nothing that sounded serious or organised yet. Praxos had overheard things at the bath house. Nike had picked up the odd whisper here and there at the tavern. There was nothing concrete though, nothing they could put a finger on. All the same, perhaps someone was beginning to foment trouble? if so, they needed to find out who and nip it in the bud before it could flourish. If she ever got back that was. 

Surely that must be it? Someone had hired men to take her as she slept, bring her out...Zeus knew where and dump her. Hands clean of her blood they could just leave her here to die.

Well, they were going to have to try a damn sight harder than that, she decided. For one thing Kassandra had returned from that ill fated sea voyage at last. She wouldn’t rest until she’d found Kyra, she knew that with absolute confidence. And knowing Kassandra, she would also wipe out any would-be conspirators while she was about it.

But Kyra wasn’t going to hang around waiting for her lover to rescue her. For one thing, she’d die of thirst long before that happened. And for another, the gods help those who help themselves. Barnabas had once said as much and it chimed deeply with Kyra. If she was going to get out of this alive then she was going to have to make her own luck. Though a prayer to Artemis certainly wouldn’t do any harm she decided.

It didn’t seem to matter in which direction she set off, everywhere looked the same. At least it seemed to be relatively flat, she thought, trying to look on the bright side. As she walked, slow and steady, trying to conserve as much energy as possible, Kyra realised that flat, featureless and misty as it was, the terrain was going to present different obstacles. 

There were no landmarks, no stars to navigate by. If she wasn’t careful she would walk in one long rambling circle and end up more or less back where she’d started, only weaker, colder, more hungry and thirsty.

Continuing on, she kept looking around her, concentrating on the ground. If she could find some rocks or sticks, she could use them to make way markers for herself. It would be a nearly pointless exercise on a flat plain like this, but the attempt would help to give her a feeling that she was doing something, that she had some semblance of control over what was happening. And if she found a large enough rock she would no longer be unarmed, she thought with a thin smile.

She’d survived worse than this. She was uninjured. The weather was cold but calm. And though the eerie quiet and absence of life was unnerving, it was better than being chased by guards, or cornered by lecherous strangers.

Kyra was completely alone. She was her own best weapon and her own worst handicap right now. She had nothing to rely on but her own ingenuity and determination. Nothing worse to overcome than her own thoughts and fears. Squaring her shoulders she walked on.

There was no sun to give her any indication of the passage of time. Only the growing weariness of her legs to tell her how long she’d been trudging across this barren landscape. 

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. Her scuffed footprints in the dirt stretched off into the distance. At least she hadn’t fallen into the trap of doubling back on herself already. Not that it was any real comfort. Her time with the Daughters of Artemis had taught her many things and she knew that her tracks could seem to be following a straight path even as she was slowly, inexorably, heading back towards her original starting point.

There was no virtue in thinking like that. Such a train of thought would only lead to despair and surrender. If she died here, it would be on her feet, not sitting in the dirt bemoaning her fate. She turned back and continued walking, each step a little shorter, a little wearier. 

A dozen or so paces later she stopped, narrowed her eyes and squinted into the murky distance. Something had appeared, fuzzy and indistinct through the fog, but definitely something new. 

Dark and mysterious, it loomed ahead. A cliff? A building? The wall of some fortified settlement? An hallucination? 

It occurred to her that it could be a threat just as easily as salvation, but it was the only landmark she’d come across so far. She hadn’t encountered so much as a pebble on her journey yet. Good, bad or indifferent  _ that _ was where she needed to head.

Her immediate instinct was to speed up, to run even. The vague shadow had re-energized her, but she knew that was a treacherous inclination. She was already tired and her second wind was an empty promise. It would be useless to collapse from exhaustion while her destination was still far off in the distance. She squared her shoulders, controlled the urge to squander her remaining resources and carried on at a steady pace.

For the longest time it seemed as though she was getting no closer. She was beginning to think that her suspicion that it could be a figment of her imagination might be correct. She was going to wander on till she died, chasing a target that didn’t exist. And then it began to solidify, grow darker, less misty, getting a little bit larger with every few steps.

How far off it was she still couldn’t decide, but whatever it was it seemed man made, there were definite straight lines, rising columns. She stopped to catch her breath and squinted hard. There was no indication of scale, so she really had no idea what she was looking at. 

But however hard she peered through the mist she could make out no signs of life, even through the still air there was no noise coming from that direction. She was tired now, and a little breathless. The dust she’d kicked up as she walked clogged her mouth and throat. More than anything she wanted a drink, the thought of fresh water made her head swim. 

She needed to sit down for a moment, get her breath back. Despite the biting cold she could feel her chiton sticking to the sweat on her back. She cursed her body for squandering precious moisture like that. She should sit, rest for a while, recover her breath and allow her body to recuperate a little. If that structure had been made by people, there was every likelihood that there was some sort of water source there or nearby. She just needed to husband her remaining resources carefully enough to reach it. 

Kyra sat on the chilly ground, feeling the cold creep into her bones and up her spine, the sweat on her back prickled as it cooled. All she could think of was water. Plunging her head into it, drinking her fill, washing the dust from her hands and face. 

Bowing her head onto her knees she tried to relax for a while, regulate her breathing, imagine getting to that distant target. If there were people there she chose to imagine they would be friendly. They had to have come from somewhere. They might be able to tell her where she was, how she could get home.

Before long, her eyes began to close, she no longer felt the insidious cold, crawling up her shoulders, out along her limbs, she even began to feel pleasantly warm. 

She could just lie down for a few minutes, take a short nap, that would help her recover. Then when she woke she’d be able to set off reinvigorated. She’d soon be at the structure. She would drink, get help, return home, be welcomed by her friends, by Kassandra.

And then she would hunt down and kill whoever the bastards were who had dumped her out here. 

Gods, she was feeling hot now. She should take off this clinging chiton, roll it into a pillow, sleep for a little while, that would help.

She got to her feet, sighing wearily, but before she could begin to unknot the cord around her breasts and shoulders, movement in her peripheral vision stopped her. She looked up sharply. 

That was a person. A dark, shadowy figure was approaching through the mist.

For a few moments she was torn between conflicting emotions, almost tearful relief at the sight of another being but equally, a tense anxiety about their intentions. What if they thought she was some sort of invader or spy? She had no idea where she was, what sort of political or military machinations might be going on here.

But she obviously wasn’t going to try and avoid them after all this. It would be pointless anyway. She doubted she had the energy to run far and there was nowhere to hide if she did. Holding her open hands out by her sides she began to walk towards the approaching figure.

After a few paces she decided that it was a man, tall, broad shouldered, with a confident, swaggering gait. He brought to mind Kassandra for a moment and she felt her throat constrict with unshed tears. 

Now was not the time to start thinking about her, about how worried she would be when she discovered Kyra was missing, how relieved she would be when Kyra returned home with a story as incredible as anything Kassandra had experienced.

She and the stranger were advancing steadily on each other now and she could make out some sort of armour, weapons swinging at his hip. There was something about him that seemed familiar, something about his movement and physique that made her heart beat a little faster and not entirely due to nervousness. 

She’d been mistaken. It wasn’t that he reminded her of Kassandra. He reminded her of…

“Thaletas?!” 

She stopped suddenly. Her voice sounded strange to her, thick with dust and disuse. Her heart was pounding now, sweat broke out on her palms. There was no way it could be him. He was long dead. She’d retrieved his corpse herself, his handsome features ruined by the heat, the tide and the scavengers. She’d lain beside him with the sweet scent of decay tickling her nostrils and wept on his chest. Anger, guilt, grief, each wrestling for dominance.

But here he was, striding out of the mist, his head at a peculiar angle, tilted to the side a bit, giving him a quizzical appearance as he drew closer. He didn’t speak but now she could hear the familiar creak and jingle of his armour, her eyes were swimming and she had to blink rapidly to clear her vision. 

As she did so she saw him fully. 

Bile rose in her throat and she took an involuntary step back, holding up her hands, wanting to keep him at bay. For one horrifying moment she thought that he wasn’t going to stop, that he was going to walk right up to her, to embrace her, and she fought back the urge to vomit.

His armour was dull, rimed with salt and the chest piece was caked with a chlamys of old blood that led up to the terrible gaping wound in his throat, so deep that his head listed sideways a little. His once handsome face was beginning to bloat and the flesh was loosening, marring his sharp jawline.

Kyra backed away, shaking her head and holding out her hands, but he just took another step forward to maintain the distance. Her whole body felt clammy with terror and she knew her hands were shaking but could do nothing to control it.

There was clearly no point backing away any further, he would just advance, but when she stopped so did he, remaining three or four paces away. Somehow, even with his ruined neck he managed to raise his head to look at her with his one remaining eye, thick, dark fluid dripping from the empty socket beside it.

Even beneath the wreckage of his face Kyra could make out the handsome young man he had once been. There was still that hint of youthful arrogance about his bloating features, and he seemed almost quizzical as he looked at her, his single eye tracking up and down her body before settling on her face.

“Thaletas?” she breathed, voice unsteady.

He opened his mouth, a stream of greenish water poured out, running off the point of his jaw, spilling over his breastplate. And when he spoke, the words didn’t come from his sun cracked lips but from the gory mess of his throat.

“You’re here at last,” his voice was just recognisable above the low gurgling from his lungs. “You treacherous bitch!”

Kyra flinched as though he’d slapped her. She instinctively took a pace back but he advanced, face contorted with rage, striding even closer to her now. She could smell seaweed and rot, and gagged, clamping a hand to her mouth.

“So long I’ve waited,” he leaned in towards her and she watched in disgust as a small reddish crab scuttled out of his empty eye socket and down his neck before disappearing behind his breastplate. 

Kyra bent abruptly, overwhelmed by the sight and sound and smell of him. Her stomach lurched and she heaved till her ribs ached, too dehydrated to bring up more than a thin trickle of stinging bile.

“Don’t you dare turn away from me,” he reached out and grabbed a hold of her chin with damp, slippery fingers, yanking her head around to look at him. “Look at your work, you lying whore!”

“No, Thaletas, I swear,” she tried to draw back but he held her tight, the flesh sliding from his fingers as he gripped harder. “I never wanted this to happen. I never imagined it would, I swear to you, my love.”

He released her chin and slapped her face before she had time to even register what he was about to do.

“Your love?” he sneered, mouth gaping and unmoving, blood and seawater bubbling from his ruined throat. “Don’t you dare use those words with me! You don’t even know the meaning of them, you conniving traitor. Love?” he loomed over her, stinking sea water dripping from his mouth onto the shoulder of her chiton. “You’ve never loved anyone in your life. You don’t know how to.  _ Lust _ on the other hand? Oh yes, you know how to use that, don’t you, Kyra?”

“Thaletas, please, listen to me, let me explain.”

“Explain? You don’t need to explain,” he threw out his hands, drew his cracked lips back in an ungodly mimicry of a smile. “You lured me to your side, to aid you with your pissant rebellion. Me and that stupid cunt-led mercenary, and then when it was over, you loosed her on me, like a wild dog. You set up both of us, you scheming whore. Got her to murder me, then banished her, all so you could grasp power for yourself!”

“No,” she protested. That wasn’t what she’d intended at all. None of it. She hadn’t intended to fall in love with either of them. Hadn’t meant to succumb to Kassandra’s effortless charm. Certainly had never imagined that the whole thing would end with his terrible death on that lonely beach.

“No Thaletas, I swear,” she clasped her fist to her chest. “I swear that I never intended for any of that to happen. I wanted to free the people of the Islands from the grip of a tyrant. All I wanted was for them to be able to live in peace. I never for a moment imagined that I would become Archon.”

“Didn’t you?” he sneered. “Because it didn’t take long for the idea to occur to you, did it? You’re clever, I give you that. You dripped your seductive words in my ear till I forgot my honour. I was going to take you from the gutter, a filthy street rat, a common Delian, and make you my wife. You could have been the consort of a mighty general. I would have given you everything you’ve ever wanted. A home, a husband, a family, renown. You could have been mother to proud Spartan sons. But even as I was bowed over my battle plans, you were spreading your thighs for the Shame of Sparta,” he was advancing on her now, face contorted into a terrible leer. “Did you really think you were ever going to rest in Elysium after all that you’ve done?”

Kyra backed away, the dirt scuffing beneath her feet, shaking her head slowly. She didn’t want to hear this, any of it. Didn’t want to listen to him mouthing the secret fears that tormented her on sleepless nights when she was alone with her thoughts.

“But at long last, you are here...my… _ love _ ,” he sneered, licking his lips with a bloated, discoloured tongue. “And we have all of eternity to renew our acquaintance…”

“Step away from her!”

A woman’s voice barked out of the gloom, making them both turn abruptly.

A slender shade advanced on them, the clogging mist swirling about her feet. She was dragging one lame leg behind her and her hands were clasped to her side, but her head was held high.

Thaletas had stopped in his tracks, but made no attempt to retreat, he raised his chin, attempting defiance, his head wobbling a little on its ruined neck, and glared at the woman as she emerged from the fog. 

She was young and slender and would have been pretty had her face not been contorted with anger. Kyra saw that her eyes were grey and milky and yet somehow still burning with rage.

“I told you to step away from her, boy!”

As though a switch had been flipped inside him Thaletas took a half dozen steps back and dropped his head to his chest.

Kyra turned to face her rescuer. 

She seemed to be about her own age, her pretty face was calm now, infinitely mournful as she gazed at her. Her features seemed familiar to Kyra, but she couldn’t place her. It was like seeing a face from your childhood after many long years. 

The woman gave a sad smile, her dead eyes narrowing. She took a halting, dragging step towards Kyra and she saw that what she had first taken for a sash at her waist was in fact a dark stream of sluggish blood, still flowing and soaking into the fabric of her long skirts. Her hands were clasped above her waist and protruding obscenely from between her fingers was a short length of broken spear shaft, shifting slightly as she moved.

“Don’t you recognise me, daughter?” her voice was soft and whispery.

Kyra’s heart clenched painfully and she shook her head, scarcely able to believe it. Of course she recognised her now, she looked just as she had when Kyra had last seen her, when Podarkes’ men had burst into their home and butchered her. How could she have forgotten? How had she managed to block out the image of her own mother’s face?

She remembered now, the strong grip of a woman neighbour on her arm, dragging her out, slipping and skidding through her mother’s blood, racing through the back streets, choking on her sobs as the woman hissed at her to be quiet.

“Mater?” she breathed, taking a halting step forward, feeling hot tears searing her cheeks. “Oh gods...mater…” she rushed towards her but Dianthe held out a warning hand, the spear shaft lolling at the reduction in support.

“No, daughter,” she shook her head.

Kyra stopped obediently, rubbing away tears with the back of her hand, breath hiccuping as she tried to control her weeping.

“I missed you so much mater.”

“Did you?” Dianthe asked, placidly. “Not enough to come and give me a decent burial though ...not till I’d rotted to nothing.”

“No...I...I’m sorry mother, I’m so sorry,” she fell to her knees in the dirt. “I was just a child. I was away for such a long time and then...then it wasn’t safe to return for so long, I couldn’t face seeing…”

“Whine, whine, whine,” Dianthe sighed. “You always were a whinging little brat.”

Kyra fell back on her heels, stung far more than Thaletas’ slap had managed.

“If you weren’t whining to be fed, you were whining to be changed or entertained or paid attention to,” Dianthe shook her head and looked down at her, crouched by her feet. Her expression was of outright disgust.

“Mater, please,” Kyra held out her hands, watched her mother take a step back, safely out of reach. “I was just a child.”

“Such a tiny squealing little thing and yet you managed to ruin my body and destroy my life,” Dianthe sneered. “From the moment he discovered I was pregnant your father refused to touch me, you know. Once he adored me, worshipped me with his hands and mouth and then you infected me. I was so lovely before you. He would sit and just look at me lying there naked, the smooth lines of my belly and hips, my firm proud breasts. And then I lost it all. Everything ruined by a red faced, screaming little parasite,” she was snarling now, her voice low and threatening, her face contorted with rage.

Kyra clamped her hands to her ears but her mother’s voice wormed its way straight into her brain, injecting its venom.

“I should have drunk that potion I bought, but Otonia, that stupid naive bitch, dissuaded me. If you give him a son, he will be yours forever,” she gave a bark of humourless laughter. “When you squirmed out, red faced and bawling, the ugliest little thing I had ever seen, and I saw that worthless absence between your legs? I should have dashed out your brains then and there. Or drowned you like an unwanted puppy. But she saved you again, foolish, sentimental woman. She pressed you to my breast and smiled as you sucked the life and beauty out of me.”

Kyra was sobbing uncontrollably now, slumped forward, her brow pressed into the dirt, heart twisting. She felt her mother take a step towards her, close enough now that she could feel the blood heavy skirts of her chiton brush against her shoulder. She felt her bend down, heard her voice, low and vicious.

“I wish that I had never had you.”

“That is enough Dianthe! How dare you speak to my daughter in that fashion!”

No? 

No!

Kyra shook her head, feeling the dirt grazing her cheeks and forehead. Not this. Anything but this. She couldn’t bear any more. She should have stayed out there in the featureless wilderness, waited to die of thirst, or unbound her breasts and throttled herself with the cord. Anything but this.

A man’s heavy, steady footsteps approached. She could hear the jangle of his armour, the dirt crunching beneath his weight.

“Beloved daughter,” a deep, soft voice intoned as she felt a gentle hand touch the back of her head. “You should not kneel before me or anyone. I should be the one kneeling. I should prostrate myself before you for my idiocy. Look at me, child.”

Trembling, heart in her throat, she raised her head and looked at him.

Podarkes looked completely unharmed, tall, strong, handsome even. His armour glistened in the murky light and a hesitant smile played about his lips. Kyra gazed at him, astonished and horrified.

“Please, Kyra,” he inclined his head. “Please stand. No daughter of mine should be on her knees.” He took a step back, giving her enough space to move, watching proudly as she stumbled to her feet.

She brushed her eyes with the heels of her hands, shook the dust from her hair and looked, stunned, from Podarkes to Dianthe and back. He folded his arms and beamed.

“I am so proud of you, daughter,” he shook his head wonderingly. “And I apologise for your mother. The worthless mare who bore you,” he glanced over at Dianthe. She was gazing longingly at him. “You foolish, vain, vapid creature,” he took a stride over to her.

“I always wondered what I saw in you,” he reached out and cradled her cheek in his big, scarred hand. “There were many women more beautiful. More intelligent. More charming,” he leaned into her, bowing over her. “Now I realise that it was your potential. Unpromising as you seemed at the time, only you had the potential to birth my daughter.”

Kyra watched, mute and appalled as he bent to kiss her mother, saw something dark and clawed scuttle from his mouth into Dianthe’s. As she watched, her mother’s head lolled forwards, her shoulders slumped and her hands fell to her sides. The shaft of the spearhead in her ribs lurched and a thick, sluggish stream of black blood oozed forth.

“Kyra, beloved daughter,” Podarkes held out his hands, a proud smile on his face. “I have waited so long to greet you, to beg for your forgiveness. I should never have left you with her. I should have taken you the first time she showed you to me. Raised you myself. I was a fool, a blind fool. I am so sorry. And yet, despite it all, you thrived, grew every day to be more and more like me.”

Kyra couldn’t respond, she had no idea what was happening now. She took a halting step backwards, shaking her head, confused and scared.

“Don’t back away, dear girl,” he pleaded. “I am so proud of you. I have dwelt here all this time and the only thing that has made it bearable has been watching you grow. So strong, so ruthless, so intelligent. And yes, beautiful. I began to think that the day would never come when you would be here, would be able to stand by my side.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand,” her voice was cracked and broken, her chest too tight to breathe. “I had you killed.”

“Indeed, and I could not have been more proud,” he smiled. “So bold. So resolute. And so cunning! Even as I bled out, I thought how proud I was of you. My only regret was that you were not there yourself so I could tell you. But your handsome lover did a magnificent job. She was a much better fit for you than that arrogant Spartan pup,” he jerked a thumb in the direction of the immobile Thaletas. 

“He would have held you back, kept you barefoot and pregnant bearing his whelps. The woman however? A different matter altogether. Your mother of course, she was so preoccupied with what lay between the mercenary’s legs that she couldn’t even see what lay within  _ here _ !” he pounded his fist against his gleaming breastplate. “She would have been an admirable mate for you. Bold, brave, bloodthirsty, both of you utterly ruthless.”

“I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying,” Kyra shook her head, looking over at the mute immobile figures of Thaletas and Dianthe. “I don’t understand any of this. Where are we?”

“No one understands at first,” he shrugged. “Most have to struggle through unaided, trying to make sense of it as they go along. But you have me, to welcome you home,” he smiled. “What a magnificent couple we shall make.”

Kyra frowned and drew back, shaking her head but Podarkes laughed, braced his hands on his hips.

“Gods, daughter, no. Nothing like that. I’m not some unnatural monster. You and I, governing this dismal land, together. Grim as it looks at first glance, it has everything you desire. Everything you wanted on earth but feared you could never have.”

He gave her a long, sympathetic look as she shook her head, confounded.

“Forgive me, I’m not making myself clear to you daughter. It’s the excitement of seeing you here at last. If you only knew how much I long to embrace you, to hold you close and kiss your head as I should have done when Dianthe first brought you to me and I saw your lovely face, saw that you had my eyes. I look into them now, so strong, so proud and see myself reflected back at me. You have grown to be the pitiless, unrelenting heir I could only dream of.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Kyra protested. “Where are we? What’s here in this dreadful place that I could ever desire?”

“Oh child,” Podarkes voice was low and soft now, and when he took a step closer Kyra didn’t retreat. “From the moment I arrived here, I have watched you at every moment, all your triumphs and disasters. I’ve seen you laugh with joy, weep with despair, howl with pleasure. And I’ve seen the secret yearning of your heart. The desire you nurse quietly at your breast and share with none.” 

Kyra shook her head warily.

“Your longing for a child,” he whispered. “Your wish to continue our legacy. And how you resigned yourself to it never coming true. Your exiled Spartan was a worthy mate, but she could never fill that need. I watched you weeping silently at night and I wept with you daughter, but for different reasons.”

“What reasons?” Kyra whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. She had told no one of this. She never would. How could he possibly know?

“ _ You  _ wept because it would never happen,” he explained slowly, as though to a child. “ _ I  _ wept because it already had, but you had no way of knowing. And I had no way of letting you know.”

He wasn’t clarifying things at all, Kyra thought, the more he spoke the muddier things became.

“I still don’t understand,” she shook her head. “Where am I? How do you know these things?  _ What _ has already happened?”

“Daughter, you wept because you would never be a mother,” he sighed. “When you were...when you  _ are _ ...already a mother...a hundred times over.”

He turned away from her and gestured into the mist where vague shapes swirled and coalesced.

“Come children!” he called, his voice ringing out, scything through the murk. “After all your patience, she is here, at last. Come! Greet your mother!”

As she watched, confused and scared, her belly icy with dread, the shapes emerged, advancing on her. 

There were so many. Hundreds of them. Staggering, wounded men of all ages. Old women, stooped and halting. Young women with wriggling babies held to their breasts. Lanky teenagers, loping along with the performative confidence of youth. Small children, toddling along on chubby legs. And worst of all, tiny ones, crawling towards her on fists and knees of smoking mist.

“Your children Kyra,” he turned to her. “All  _ your _ children. Kyra of the Silver Islands. Mother of A Thousand Widows and Orphans. Look at the family you have borne! Look on the work you have wrought! Greet her! She has come at last. Your longing is over. Your mother is here now, to care for you, to protect you, to love you.”

She heard the low whispering as they drew closer.

“Mater? Mater? Mater!”

Kyra drew back in horror, but Podarkes came to stand beside her. He placed a supportive hand on her back and bent low to murmur in her ear.

“Don’t be afraid my child, they don’t mean you any harm. They’ve waited so patiently for you. Go to them,” he pressed gently, encouraging her forward as the throng came close. 

They stopped, as one, murmuring among themselves, gazing at her with hopeful, smoking eyes. Kyra stepped forward, her legs trembling beneath her, watching as they glanced from one to another, shuffling and nudging each other, sending up tendrils of yellow mist. 

Eventually one of them stumbled forward. A small child. She couldn’t distinguish its age or sex and its features shifted and reformed as she looked down at it. Even though it had no discernible mouth she could hear its shaky treble clearly.

“Have you come to look after us now, mater?” it held out a tentative, wispy hand.

Kyra swallowed hard, met its melting face, raised her head to look at the throng behind it. They were holding themselves immobile, not even the tendrils of mist moved. They were waiting on her answer. All of them. All of the nameless, faceless victims of the rebellion. All those she had killed or had ordered to be killed. And all those she had failed to save.

She looked back down at the shade child’s oddly expectant face, watched it drift and melt.

“Yes. Yes, little one,” she nodded, reaching out for its ghost like hand, feeling it wriggle and squirm between her fingers. “I am. If you will have me.”

A delighted murmur spread through the crowd and they inched forward as one, stopping a respectful pace away, whispering between themselves, as the tiny ones reached out towards Kyra’s ankles with wispy little fingers.

“Well done, my daughter,” Podarkes nodded, satisfaction evident in each syllable. 

Kyra turned to look at him, at his beaming smile and his powerful, outstretched arms. After a moment’s hesitation, she ran to him, throwing herself into his embrace, pressing her cheek against the smooth metal of his breastplate.

“Pater,” she whispered. “My pater.”


	2. Chapter 2

As she wandered downstairs in search of something to eat, Kassandra spotted lamplight glowing through the kitchen door. It could only be Praxos at this time of the night she imagined.

Sure enough, there he was sitting at the table, a mug of ale cradled in one huge hand, his other stroking the ear of Orion who was crouched by his feet. The big dog had his chin resting on Praxos’ thigh, a hopeful expression on his face as he drooled steadily onto the skirts of his chiton.

The reason for Orion’s optimism was a small bowl of fresh goat’s cheese that stood on the table before Praxos, alongside a plate of almond biscuits and a half full jug of ale. As she hovered hesitantly in the doorway Kassandra could hear Praxos humming quietly to himself. He was clearly enjoying the peace and quiet and Kassandra was on the verge of creeping away and leaving him to relax when he fell silent and glanced over to her.

“Can’t sleep, Kassandra?” he smiled.

“I’m sorry, Praxos,” she shrugged apologetically, not really in the mood for company herself this evening. “I’ll just get a drink and something to eat and take it outside. I don’t want to disturb you two,” she gave him a smile.

“Kassandra’s not disturbing us, is she son?” Praxos ruffled Orion’s ear. The dog looked over briefly at the mention of her name, grinning wetly, before plopping his chin back on Praxos’ thigh. “Come, sit with us. A drink?” he nodded at the jug on the table as she approached.

“Thanks, but no,” Kassandra shook her head, bringing wine and taking a seat opposite him. “I never managed to develop a taste for it.”

“Neither did I for the longest time,” Praxos took a swig and wiped thin foam from his whiskers before nudging the plate of biscuits closer to her. “Nike won me over eventually.”

“She likes ale? Interesting.” Kassandra crunched on a biscuit and watched as he plucked a lump of cheese from the bowl, rolled it into a rough ball and fed it to Orion. It barely touched the sides as it went down and he licked his chops appreciatively before resuming his hopeful position at Praxos’ leg.

“Kyra will be furious when she finds out you’ve been feeding him cheese,” she shook her head, amused.

“What Kyra doesn’t know won't hurt her,” he smirked, rubbing Orion’s head fondly.

“She’ll know soon enough,” Kassandra took a mouthful of wine. “He sleeps in our room, remember?”

Praxos gave her a quizzical side-long look.

“ _ Our _ room, now is it?” he smiled thoughtfully. “It’s about time.”

Kassandra flushed a little and swirled the remaining wine in her cup, without answering. They sat quietly for a while, the silence broken only by the sound of crunching biscuits and the occasional noisy chomping from Orion whenever he received another lump of cheese.

“Is something preying on your mind?” Praxos asked at last, pouring himself more ale and refilling Kass’ cup with wine. “If you’ll pardon my bluntness, I didn’t really expect to see you or Kyra again till the morning.”

Kassandra gave an awkward chuckle. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption after all. When she’d strode in that afternoon she’d been planning on popping her head into Kyra’s office to quickly say hello and then going to bathe. 

She reeked of days at sea in the cramped confines of the Adrestia, but Kyra hadn’t seemed to care. She’d left Savina to reschedule her afternoon appointment and had dragged Kassandra upstairs, starting to tear the armour from her body before they were through the door, biting and scratching at her newly bared flesh, ignoring her protests that she needed to wash first.

Kassandra had been a little surprised by the intensity of her ardor, but when they had eventually dragged themselves from the floor to the bed and lay entwined, both now sweaty and exhausted, the reason for Kyra’s desperate hunger had been revealed.

Two days previously rumours had reached Mykonos via a visiting merchant ship that Kyra’s envoy’s vessel had been badly damaged in rough weather and that there had been lives lost. As with many rumours there was an element of truth to it. Rather than Kassandra’s ship, it had instead been a merchant vessel from Mykonos, taking advantage of the Adrestia’s protection, that had been damaged, with twelve sailors drowning or dying of their injuries.

Kyra hadn’t known this of course and had feared the worst. Her relief at seeing her lover returned safe, if a little unhygienic, had died on receiving the news. 

“Understandable enough, Praxos,” Kassandra conceded, swallowing a big mouthful of wine. “But...I had to give her some bad news.”

She related the tale to him as he listened, attentive and sympathetic, occasionally chewing on a biscuit, or absently dropping a tidbit to Orion.

“It blew up out of nowhere,” she sighed miserably. “Even Barnabas had no idea how ferocious it was going to be. Their sails just tore apart like papyrus. Eight or nine of the men were tossed clean overboard. The other poor bastards...some of them...gods Praxos, some of them were just ripped apart by the rigging as it snapped.”

Praxos said nothing, just leaned over and refilled her cup before topping off his own mug with the last of the ale.

“I didn’t even know who they were,” she said quietly. “We tried to save them, we truly did. Basileos jumped overboard before I even realised what he was about to do. We managed to haul four back up. Odessa and Thyia shot out lead ropes. But the others...we didn’t even see them break surface.”

“Even you can’t save everyone Kassandra,” Praxos consoled her. “And the sea can be a harsh mistress, they all knew that.”

“Kyra wanted to know their names,” her voice was almost a whisper now. “I couldn’t tell her. I had no idea who they were.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a serious look. “You can’t know everyone here, you don’t spend enough time on the Islands. Kyra will find out. She’ll find out who they were, and then she’ll make sure that their families are taken care of. You can be sure of that.”

“I know Praxos,” she drained her cup. “She’s a good woman. A good governor. The Islands are blessed to have her.”

“Indeed they are,” he nodded, lips pursed in thought. 

They sat quietly for a few moments but Kassandra could feel something brewing in the air between them. Praxos opened his mouth once or twice as though he was about to speak but each time thought better of it. Just as Kassandra was about to break the tension herself, he took a deep breath, a gulp of ale and leaned forward on the table to look at her.

“Kyra has..well, you know for yourself what she’s been through. You _should_ do. Despite...no, _because_ of all that, she wants nothing but the best for the people here. But it can be a lonely view from the leader’s throne you know. And she’s a young woman. She shouldn’t be alone as much as she is...she would benefit from someone beside her.”

Kassandra ran her finger around the rim of her empty cup and glanced up at him from beneath lowered lids.

“She has you...and Savina.”

“And she always will,” he agreed. “But there are...things that Savina and I can’t provide. And don’t look at me like that,” he frowned. “I’m not talking about  _ that.  _ She needs someone to support her, care for her, be there for her. Someone to care for Kyra, the woman. To remind her that she doesn’t have to be the Archon  _ all _ the time. Savina and I, we do our best and gods know I love Kyra like my own child, but there are times when...I don’t know,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “When she needs someone she can be closer to. Someone she can talk to about the things that are really on her mind, not just dock taxes."

“Do you have anyone in mind?” she emptied the last inch of wine into her cup, avoiding his eyes.

“ _ I _ don’t,” he folded his brawny arms. “But I think Kyra does. And go ahead and be facetious if it makes you feel more comfortable, but she needs someone she can rely on. Someone who will be there when she needs them, who’ll love her even when she feels like she’s at her worst. Someone who will be faithful to...”

All three of them heard Kyra’s terrified yells from upstairs at the same moment, but Orion reacted first. He scrabbled to his feet, treats immediately forgotten, claws skittering on the smooth stone floor in his haste to reach his mistress.

Praxos wasn’t far behind, moving with surprising speed for such a mountain of a man. It took Kassandra longer to round the table and sprint after them, and they were at the foot of the stairs by the time she caught up with them. Kassandra overtook Praxos as they raced up the staircase and towards the bedroom door. Orion was already there, scratching urgently and barking.

Kassandra threw open the door as Praxos thundered up beside her. Before she could take a step, Orion had raced in, almost knocking her legs from under her, and Praxos roughly shouldered her aside as he barreled into the room and over to the bed. Kassandra looked over, heart racing, to where Kyra sat, wide eyed and terrified, one hand resting shakily on Orion’s worried brow.

Praxos had given her one hell of a shove, she thought as she regained her balance and entered the room.

Earlier that night Kyra had got up to relieve herself and to open the door to let out Orion who was whining impatiently. No doubt because he’d detected the faint whiff of goat’s cheese, Kassandra realised now. The night air had become a little cooler and Kyra had retrieved Kassandra’s tunic as she passed a chair, pulling it on as she returned to bed. At the time she had playfully complained, but now she decided it had probably been for the best.

Though, as she entered the bedroom and watched Praxos almost throw himself down to sit on the bed and envelop Kyra in a huge bear hug, she wondered if he would even have noticed had she been naked. He had one powerful arm about her, pulling her close to his chest as his other hand stroked her hair. She could hear that he was murmuring what sounded like well practiced words.

Kyra looked young and almost fragile, her face streaked with tears, Kassandra’s overlarge tunic swimming around her, sliding off one shoulder as Praxos crooned with unexpected tenderness.

“It’s all right little one. It was just a dream. Just a terrible dream. You’re safe in the villa with me and Kassandra. And that bastard Podarkes is dead. Kassandra sent him to Hades for you and he’s being tormented in Tartarus now, just as he deserves.”

Kassandra felt a pang of inappropriate jealousy at the scene. That should be her, she frowned, she should be the one comforting Kyra. But no sooner had she admitted the thought than she reproved herself for her childishness.She swallowed her misplaced pride and went over to the bed to stand beside Praxos. 

After a moment or two looming uselessly over his shoulder she inched round him and crouched on her haunches in the hope of meeting Kyra’s eyes, touching her hand. Anything to make her feel less useless, but without much luck. Kyra was sobbing against Praxos’ hairy chest, her hands clutching at his muscular back as she shook her head.

“I know, Praxos, and it’s not that,” her voice was hiccuping through her tears. “It’s true what he said. I’m just like him. All those people, dead. Because of me. I  _ am _ my father’s daughter after all.”

“Hey now!” his words were curt, but his voice was soft. “None of that. It was just a dream. Our guilts take form to torture us at times, that’s all. You are nothing like that monster, and you know that, deep in your heart. That man was nothing to you Kyra, nothing!. It takes more than a thoughtless spurt of seed to make a man a father.”

“But there were so many, Praxos, so many. Women and children. Babies even. He called me The Mother of Orphans and he may have been a liar, but he’s right about that. We need an orphanage to house all of my offspring.”

Kassandra flinched at her words and rubbed a hand across her face, closing her eyes.

“There are widows and orphans all right, little one. But they’re of his making, never forget that. We were at war with a tyrant. And there are casualties in every war. It’s a sad fact. All we can do is care for the survivors as well as we can and console ourselves with the thought of all those who won’t suffer anymore because of him.” He bowed and pressed a fond kiss to Kyra’s head. “You are a good woman, Kyra. You need to let yourself believe that.”

He sat quietly, rocking Kyra gently in his embrace and stroking her hair till her weeping subsided. Kassandra crouched, watching, feeling utterly impotent. She had no doubt that her news of the dead sailors had triggered this nightmare, but Kyra had to know sooner or later. If Kassandra hadn’t told her then someone else would have and she would have been furious with her for having kept the information to herself.

This clearly wasn’t the first time she’d had a nightmare like this. The ease with which Praxos moved to comfort her, his lack of questions, even his words, seemed to have the air of repetition. Kassandra had seen Kyra upset before, she’d seen her grieving and furious, but she had never witnessed this. How much did she miss while she was away?

“Kyra?” she asked softly and watched as she raised her head to look at her. She looked as young and vulnerable as she had ever seen her and Kassandra ached to replace Praxos, to climb into bed beside Kyra, to take her in her arms and try to convince her that she would never leave, that she would always protect her.

Instead she looked at her, safely encircled in Praxos’ protective embrace, got to her feet and gave her a comforting smile.

“I’ll go make you a warm drink, perhaps some chamomile eh?”

“With honey?” Praxos glanced down at Kyra. “That always helped you sleep when you were a youngster.”

“When you were a youngster,” Kassandra thought, as she stood in the kitchen waiting for the herbs to infuse. They had known each other for so long, far longer than she and Kyra had known each other. It was only natural that she would seek comfort in Praxos, and far from resenting it, she should be grateful that he was here, even when Kassandra wasn’t.

She went to sit outside and look at the stars for a while. Kyra always complained that she didn’t let the herbs steep for long enough, that she was just presenting her with hot water. 

Would it really be so bad, she thought, to be here on a more permanent basis? Recently she spent most of her time on land here on Mykonos. Wouldn’t it be pleasant to fall asleep with Kyra in her arms every night, to wake beside her every morning? Kyra was her lover after all. Her only lover.

Ever since that night together, when grief had softened to comfort and then flared again to passion she had known only Kyra. Without ever sitting down and making a conscious decision, she had remained faithful to her. 

Naturally enough she still flirted playfully when women looked at her with desire. It was instinctive by now, seemed almost rude not to repay their efforts with a little good natured attention. But she never felt the warm glow of arousal anymore, felt no urge to take them up on their offers. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d invited Odessa and Thyia to share her cramped quarters on long voyages. There was only Kyra in her heart, only Kyra could rouse her to desire. When she was away from her, her thoughts and dreams were only of Kyra. If there was an opportunity to complete a mission more quickly, she took it, spurred on by the need to be back with her.

Recently she ached for her continually when they were apart. The pain began the moment the Adrestia cast off and continued till she set foot back on Mykonos. It was as though there was a hook in her heart, reeling her back to the Islands, to the woman she loved.

Kyra had dropped any number of hints that she would like Kassandra to stay, to make her home here. And each time Kassandra had somehow managed to avoid the issue, change the subject, put off a decision.

But why? It could only be that cowardice took as many forms as bravery, she thought guiltily. There was no solid reason. She had broken the back of the Cult. Her mother and Alexios were safely established back in Sparta. She’d provided well enough for her little family on Kephallonia that they were financially secure. She had no need to roam the Aegean.

Half of her voyages these days were spurred by nothing more than wanderlust, by the desire to seek the unknown, to feel the rush of adrenaline that accompanied each fresh flirtation with danger. But there was ample work to be done on the Islands, ample opportunities for adventure, even if it was on a smaller scale. In fact the prospect of settling down with Kyra was surely adventure enough? How else to explain her anxious hesitancy about committing to her? Why go chasing off around the Aegean in search of half beast monsters when the prospect of making a life with Kyra made her heart pound with such a potent mix of excitement and trepidation?

She had spent enough time here now in fits and starts, that the locals were becoming gradually friendlier, less suspicious of the notorious misthios. They were beginning to gain the confidence to send occasional messages to the villa for her. To inquire if Misthios Kassandra would consider lending them her services, if the Archon could spare her?

She was roused from her reverie by a couple of bats flitting about, chasing moths probably. No doubt now she’d waited too long and the damned infusion would be cold. She got to her feet with a sigh and went to strain and sweeten it. The whole business struck her as more fiddly and complicated than it had any right to be, but if it would help calm Kyra, so be it.

When she returned to the bedroom, the cup still steaming a little, Praxos was out on the balcony gazing over the grounds.

“There you are!” he turned and a quick scowl played over his features.. “You took your time. We were starting to wonder if you’d fallen asleep down there. Well Kyra,” he strode over to the bed where she sat, hugging her knees and reached out a hand. “I’ll be off to bed. Leave you two to it...I mean leave you to talk, I didn’t mean,” he blushed hotly.

“Thank you Praxos,” Kyra was red eyed and her face was tear stained but she mustered a smile as she gave his hand a squeeze. “I knew what you meant.”

At the door he stopped suddenly as if something had just occurred to him.

“I was thinking of going hunting in the morning,” he said casually. “Pick up some rabbits for the orphanage, perhaps I could take Orion with me?” he nodded to the big dog who pricked up his ears at the mention of his name and looked to Kyra hopefully. “That way you can have a bit of a lie in, catch up on some sleep eh?” he gave Kassandra a quick awkward look and saw her swallowing a smile.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Kyra ruffled Orion’s ears. “Go with Praxos, boy,” she patted his neck and smiled as he trotted off towards the door.

“Good thinking,” Kassandra smirked as Praxos led Orion out.

“Yes, well. Unlike some people, I don’t have much of a sense of smell,” he frowned, closing the door after him.

Kassandra strode over to the bed and handed the warm cup to Kyra, watching nervously as she took the first sip. To her relief she looked up, smiling.

“It’s perfect,” Kyra looked surprised.

“It took a while but I got there in the end,” Kassandra grinned, pulling off her tunic and climbing into bed beside her, taking care not to jostle the cup too much. She slipped a gentle arm around Kyra, easing her in to lean against her before kissing her temple.

“How are you feeling?”

“Foolish,” she blew on the steaming liquid. “I’m sorry Kassandra.”

“That’s all right,” she misunderstood. “You’ve known Praxos for so long, it’s only natural that you would turn to him for comfort.”

“What?” Kyra turned sharply to look at her. “No. I didn’t mean...I’m apologising for the wrong thing it seems,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m sorry about that too then Kassandra. It’s just that, well, you’ve never been here before when I’ve had one of these nightmares. I didn’t want you to see me like that, not over some stupid dream.”

“Don’t apologise for that,” Kassandra stroked her hair. “None of us can control our dreams. I should know. And I don’t think they’re stupid actually,” she considered, as Kyra sipped quietly. “They can be foolish. Illogical. But not stupid I don’t think. There’s always some sort of reason behind them. I think it was me this time. The...sailors. I’m so sorry about that whole thing Kyra. If there’s anything I can do to help their families?”

“You’ve done enough,” Kyra put down her empty cup on the bedside table. “There would have been more deaths without you and your crew.”

“Without me and my crew they may not have been there in the first place.”

“They had goods to deliver,” Kyra sighed. “They would have set sail anyway. Not even Barnabas can predict Poseidon’s rages.”

“Not all the time,” Kassandra smiled sadly.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Kyra leaned into her, resting her head against her shoulder.

“You’re a fine one to talk!” Kassandra gave a soft huff of laughter. “But that’s just what Praxos said.”

“So that’s where you were?” Kyra glanced up. “Midnight drinking with Praxos? You couldn’t sleep?”

“First night ashore, first night at sea,” Kassandra shrugged. “Sometimes I have trouble getting off,” she caught her own innuendo a moment too late and was glad when Kyra just smiled and slipped an arm across her belly to stroke lightly at her hip.

“That wasn’t it this time though, was it?” she whispered. “You were feeling guilty too.”

“A little, perhaps,” Kassandra evaded. “I don’t know how useful an emotion it is most of the time.”

“It’s not useful when it’s misplaced,” Kyra said, quietly. “Perhaps we both need to learn that?”

They sat together quietly for a while, Kassandra felt the slow movement of Kyra’s fingers against the crest of her hip become irregular and eventually stop. She assumed that she’d fallen asleep and was wondering if she could manage to ease her down into a more comfortable position without waking her, when she felt her tilt her head to look up.

“Kassandra?” she breathed, softly. “Will you make love to me? Please?”

Kassandra recognised what she was asking for. Bending to kiss her first, she threw back the sheets and shifted to help Kyra strip off the baggy tunic before laying her back down against the pillows.

For all the nights Kassandra had lain awake thinking of her, Kyra was always even more lovely in the flesh. The supple lines of her body, the firm swell of her breasts, and tonight the melancholy smile she wore as she combed her fingers through Kassandra’s hair and pulled her down into a languid kiss. It was all overwhelming.

Their lovemaking was as soft and gentle this time as it had been aggressive and hungry earlier. Kassandra kissed her for long minutes, teasing her lips with the lightest touches of her tongue, tenderly easing into her mouth, tracing the edges of her teeth, until she heard Kyra begin to whimper needily and knot her fingers more tightly in her hair.

Following her unspoken request she slid down her body, repeating the process on her breasts, drawing Kyra’s stiffening nipples between her lips, teasing them carefully with the barest edge of teeth, blowing softly on the wet flesh, watching with delight as they puckered, tight and hard for her.

“I missed you so much,” she breathed, running the tip of her tongue down the smooth plane of Kyra’s torso, lingering at her navel. “I miss you so much when I’m away,” she scraped her fingernails lightly up her inner thighs hearing the hitch in her breath, feeling her begin to move against her with barely perceptible thrusts, searching for her mouth.

“The nights when we’re apart,” she whispered, not even sure that Kyra could hear her now. “They’re so long and empty,” she nosed down to the short, neat hair of her sex, breathed in the scent of her, the scent she struggled so hard to conjure up on lonely nights in her bunk.

“It’s as though time moves differently when I’m away from you,” she eased Kyra’s thighs apart slowly, felt her breath quickening. She inched down the bed a little, into a more comfortable position. After what seemed like such a long wait, she had no desire to hurry this.

She took her time, taking infinite care to tease with lips and tongue, now and then a hint of teeth, before parting her gently with her thumbs and seeking the swollen peak of her clitoris. She heard Kyra gasp and felt her hands clench in her hair, tugging loose a few strands, as she drew it between her lips, suckling gently, listening for her breathing, trying to match its rhythm.

It had only been a matter of hours since she’d been taken roughly on the floor just feet away but it seemed like a lifetime ago. The horror and weariness of the past few days faded away in the face of Kyra’s growing hunger. The soft skin of her thigh against Kassandra’s cheek, the wiry tickle of her hair against her nose, the slick, slippery flesh beneath her tongue. If she had to spend eternity in any one place, she prayed it might be here, coaxing these soft whimpering cries from the woman she loved.

She heard Kyra breathing her name, low and slow, over and over like an incantation as she gripped her hair more firmly, holding her tightly in place as she moved desperately against Kassandra’s tireless tongue, faster and harder, till she was almost sobbing with need. Kassandra slipped her arms under Kyra’s thighs, pulled her closer, matched her frantic rhythm, drunk on the taste and the scent of her, willing to do this for the rest of the night if that was what it took.

It didn’t. With a hitching, broken cry of Kassandra’s name Kyra came, her fingers knotted painfully in her hair, pulsing wetly against her mouth, thighs trembling. Kassandra remained where she was, resting her head against Kyra’s thigh, till she heard her actually begin to sob and looked up quickly.

She had one forearm across her eyes, a strand of Kassandra’s hair caught between her fingers moving slightly in the breeze through the open windows. Kassandra shifted quickly up the bed and took her in her arms, feeling her turn and cling desperately to her. For a few minutes she was crying too hard to speak. Kassandra stroked her back softly, kissed the top of her head, whispered the first comforting nonsense that came into her mind and eventually Kyra’s weeping slowed, her breathing steadied.

“I was so afraid you were dead,” she breathed into the crook of her neck. “When I heard your ship had gone down. I was so afraid that I would never see you again, that I didn’t even think about other people being killed.”

Kassandra pulled her in tightly, and pressed her face to her hair. She strongly suspected that this was the real reason for Kyra’s guilt ridden nightmare, but she couldn’t blame her one bit. She tried to imagine how she would have reacted had their positions been reversed and her mind could scarcely bear it. The idea of waiting so long and fighting so hard to be back by Kyra’s side, only to lose her before she could truly explain to her just how she felt, just how much she needed her was too awful to contemplate.

“It’s all right, my love,” she soothed. “That’s a natural enough reaction. Anyone would have felt the same. I would have felt the same,” she kissed her hair softly.

“Their poor families,” Kyra sighed. “I need to gather all the families tomorrow and explain what’s happened so that they can begin to prepare themselves. I hate this part of the job Kassandra, and I seem to have done it so often, tell people that their loved ones have…” she tailed off.

Kassandra waited quietly to see if she was going to say anything else, but she was quiet now, absentmindedly running her fingers across Kassandra’s collar bone.

As she lay, listening to Kyra’s breathing slow, feeling her tears prickling her skin as they dried Kassandra inhaled sharply, licked her lips, tasting Kyra on them.

“Would you like me to come with you?” she asked hesitantly. “To tell them what happened. Do you think it would help at all to have someone there who...saw it? Or will it just make it worse?”

Kyra’s hand had stopped moving and Kassandra could feel a slight, surprised tension in her before she spoke.

“I think that might be very helpful Kassandra, it would certainly help me to deal with it. But, it won’t be pretty.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to be,” she sighed. “But whatever they say, however they react, it can’t make me feel any worse than I did at the time. And you shouldn’t have to do that alone.”

“Thank you,” Kyra whispered, as she relaxed against her chest. “Things don’t seem so insurmountable somehow when you’re here. Still awful of course, but it will be easier to get through with you at my side.”

Kassandra lay back looking at the dim shadows on the ceiling, her earlier thoughts began to bubble back up to the front of her mind again. The words tapped at the back of her teeth begging for egress. Kyra’s breath was slow and steady now, her weight fully against her as she drifted into sleep. At the sound of her name she mumbled drowsily, turned her head a little to better hear what Kassandra had to say.

“I’ve been thinking,” she swallowed audibly. “For a while I’ve been thinking. On and off. And I should have said something sooner, I know, but...I think I was scared. I think I’m still a bit scared to be honest, but I know that I want to try Kyra. I want to stay by your side. If you still want that too? I’d like to stay here, with you. Settle down, here on Mykonos.”

She tailed off awkwardly, her pulse rapid in her throat and waited for an answer. None seemed to be forthcoming. Glancing down, Kyra’s head hadn’t shifted at all.

“Kyra?” she whispered.

“Mmm,” she mumbled sleepily. “That’s nice Kassandra...we’ll talk...morning.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the first chapter and thought "hey Hoffman is going to try and write something serious with no cheap slapstick, maybe a re-interpretation of Orpheus where Kass has to labour through Hades to rescue her true love." I'm so sorry.
> 
> Because this isn't that. When we finished the Styx story some people expressed an interest in a sequel, but that didn't seem to be coming, though I really wanted to write Kass and Kyra again. Then cookswhoa wondered what it would be like if Kass returned to Kephallonia later in life as the big hero figure.
> 
> During a plotting session with fishbone76 I mentioned this and she said "well they had to adopt Phoibe at some point" and it went from there. So this is a prequel to Styx. It's not what anyone asked for, and I don't think it's what cookswhoa meant. But here it is all the same.
> 
> As before there are hints of things in common between this version of the characters and those in fishbone's Until We Meet Again, but there are more massive differences. So we think of this as an "alternate timeline" deal.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Praxos’ suggestion that she lie in for a bit it was clear that Kyra had been up for a while, Kassandra realised when she woke the next morning. The bed beside her was cool and the tunic that Kyra had worn to bed had been picked up, folded and placed on the clothes chest at the foot of the bed.

As she washed, Kassandra reflected miserably on the previous night. She’d steeled herself to tell Kyra that she was ready to stay, only to have her fall asleep and not hear her. Today would hardly be an appropriate time to broach the subject again she thought, looking out of the window. 

The sky was clear and cloudless and the sun was already warming the courtyard. It was a beautiful day and they were going to spend it telling people that their loved ones had died far away from home. That there would be no bodies to mourn over, they were either lost or too ruined to make the journey back.

She selected her smartest chiton, and washed, dressed, with her hair freshly braided wandered downstairs.

“Ah, good morning Misthios,” Aegeus, Kyra’s rather prissy clerical assistant greeted her at the foot of the stairs. “I hear we shall have the pleasure of your company, as it were, for our mournful business this morning? The gods can be merciless, it’s true.”

“Good morning Aegeus,” she nodded, feeling unreasonably irritated by him already. “You’re coming as well then, I take it?”

“Indeed,” he crossed his hands primly at his waist. “In fact I am leaving immediately. Our beloved Archon has entrusted me with making the necessary arrangements, and time marches inexorably along, as ever.”

“Well don’t let me delay you,” she looked around the corridor.

“If you’re looking for the Archon,” he called over his shoulder. “You’ll find her in her office.”

Kassandra could hear the low murmur of conversation as she approached the door and knocked quickly before entering. Kyra was sitting at her desk, poring over paperwork, with her assistant Savina at her shoulder. Praxos was sitting, knees spread and arms folded, in a chair near the terrace. Kassandra made a general greeting.

“You were up early, Kyra,” she went over to the desk. “Hello Savina, I’m sorry I didn’t see you to say hello yesterday.”

“Not at all Misthios,” she blushed slightly and smiled. “Quite understandable given the circumstances. We were all immensely relieved to hear of your safe return,” she shot a quick glance at Kyra. Savina had borne as much of Kyra’s distracted behaviour as anyone over the past couple of days.

“Kassandra,” Kyra looked up and gave a brief smile that was more polite than anything else. She was wearing a modest but elegant peplos, she’d removed all her jewelry and wore just a simple wreath of fresh laurels, entirely appropriate for the task at hand Kassandra realised, glad she’d taken care over her own choice of clothing. “Yes, I’m sorry I came down without saying good morning, but you were sound asleep and I didn’t want to wake you. Are you sure that you still want to accompany us?”

“Of course,” she took a seat in the empty chair by the desk.

“Are you going like that?” Praxos gave her an appraising look. He didn’t appear totally impressed with what he saw.

Kassandra glanced down at herself, a little taken aback. Her sandals were clean and the chiton was decent and relatively new.

“Don’t you think that armour would be more appropriate, if you’re going to be representing the Archon?” he wasn’t wearing his normal everyday armour, scuffed and dented from brawls and hunting trips, having opted for the fancier, more ceremonial set he wore when accompanying Kyra on official business.

“I’m sure it _ would _ if I had a fancy set with me,” Kassandra bristled a little. 

All her kit was practical, generally assembled from favourite pieces she’d acquired over the years, supplemented with nicer items she’d managed to loot on her travels. What she’d been wearing when she arrived the previous day was battered and salt stained. She’d been wearing it when the storm hit and there was no way she’d consider appearing before the bereaved families in it.

“Perhaps you should consider acquiring something a little more appropriate, if you’re going to be attending official business?” 

Before Kassandra could think of a response Kyra looked up sharply.

“Kassandra isn’t accompanying us in an official capacity, Praxos,” she said coolly. “She’s there to answer any questions that the families may have. And to provide personal support for me.”

Praxos frowned for a moment, considering, before softening his expression.

“I just think you might want to consider how it could appear,” he said quietly. “Kassandra flits in and out of the place on a whim it seems like, and people are beginning to wonder just what position it is that she holds here.”

Kyra opened her mouth to speak but paused and seemed to think better of it.

“Now is not the time to be discussing this, Praxos,” she replied with studied calm. “We have a long, stressful day ahead, we all had a disturbed night and I don’t want any of us to say something we might regret later. Given the nature of today’s business I don’t really think that people will be speculating on Kassandra’s position, official or otherwise.”

Clearly, Kassandra decided, she had done something to irritate Praxos, and it could only have been last night. He clearly loved Kyra dearly and she him. She’d heard all about him from Kyra, about her time with his sister among the Daughters of Artemis, how he’d rescued and raised her, but it wasn’t until she began to spend more time on Mykonos that she’d begun to understand how deep their relationship was. He was obviously very protective of her and clearly still a bit suspicious of Kassandra. 

As they made their way into town she cast her mind back over the previous evening, to her conversation with him over the kitchen table. He’d clearly been angling after some admission of her intentions from Kassandra and she’d come up short. At the end of the day though, Kyra was her own woman, capable of making her own decisions and Zeus knew she hadn’t been afraid of making difficult choices regarding Kassandra in the past, entirely unaided.

He had a point though, she conceded. Kassandra had so far shied away from accepting any official title or position at the leader house. Previously it had always seemed too much like making a permanent commitment, tying herself down. Now, however, she was ready to face the fact that the idea didn’t seem so unnerving. If only she could find an appropriate moment to bring up the topic again with Kyra. Preferably when she wasn’t already half asleep.

She was a little anxious about how this meeting was going to unfold if she was honest. It might be a useful indicator of whether she was making the right decision, however. Kassandra had broken bad news to people in the past, sometimes to relatives of people she’d actually killed herself come to think of it. But she’d never had to do it en masse. 

There were tears and anger, as she’d expected, but surprisingly little of it was directed at Kassandra, she was relieved to discover. In fact a few people even cautiously approached her after the meeting to thank her and her crew for their efforts. It was nowhere near as bad as she’d feared and part of her even felt pleased that she seemed to be becoming accepted as part of the community.

She said as much to Kyra as they lay in bed that night.

“We have experienced such tragedies before,” Kyra explained as she lay curled up against her with her head resting on Kassandra’s chest. “Construction accidents, sunken ships, silo fires. They’ve all taken their toll in the past. And of course people still remember the rebellion. Speaking of silos,” she glanced up. “That was generous of you to offer to help with those repairs, you didn’t need to do that.”

“No. I know that. But that poor woman’s boys are too young to be much help,” Kassandra replied quietly. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

There was a short silence before Kyra replied.

“It won’t be the work of a week. You do know that? In fact it won’t be the work of two or three weeks. The stone hasn’t even arrived yet.”

“That’s fine,” Kassandra stifled a yawn with partial success. “And it won’t take as long as you think. I’ll rope in some of the crew to help.”

“The pretty ones or the strong ones?” Kyra asked dryly.

“Some of them are pretty _ and _ strong,” Kassandra chuckled.

“Oh well, you definitely need to bring those!”

There was another silence, with an undercurrent of tension this time.

“It’s still quite a commitment Kassandra. The crew won’t mind?”

“They’d rather be busy than idle,” she reasoned. “Kyra? Are you trying to ask me something?”

The silence this time crackled.

“Last night,” Kyra broke it eventually. “I thought that I heard you say something, but I was already half asleep and, well, I’m not sure that I didn’t dream it.”

Here we go, thought Kassandra, now was the time to fish or cut bait. This was her chance to laugh it off, plead ignorance, take Kyra’s offered escape route and dismiss it as her drowsy imagination.

“You weren’t dreaming,” she said quietly, committing to her decision. “I’ve thought about it seriously...and I’d like to stay here, with you. I’d like us to try and make this work together. If that’s what you still want?”

Kyra scrabbled up onto her elbows to look down at her, a delighted grin dimpling her cheeks.

“Kassandra! Are you serious?”

“Deathly,” she smiled, reaching up and distractedly looping a lock of Kyra’s hair around her fingers as she continued.

“When I was in the water, the sailor I had hold of, he was panicking, flailing his arms about, trying to climb on top of me. It was dark, the waves were huge, rain was lashing down and this damn fool kept pushing me under. For a minute or two I really though that was going to be it. I was going to drown in the dark off the coastline of Kos, with Barnabas screaming like a madman at me.”

Her face became thoughtful as she cast her mind back, and she could feel Kyra running a soothing hand up and down her belly in silence.

“It wasn’t the dying bit,” she shrugged. “It’ll happen sooner or later. But I was sad that I hadn’t got to say goodbye to my family and friends. And I was angry about us. Angry with myself for not taking a chance and trying to make a life with you. Just because I was scared.”

“What is it about this that scares you?” Kyra asked softly, laying her head down against Kassandra’s chest, hearing the quickening drum beat of her heart. There was a short pause as she considered her answer.

“Failing,” she said at last. “Letting you down. Hurting you again. Getting hurt again.”

“You’re just describing life really,” Kyra rubbed slow circles on her lower belly with the flat of her hand. “Those things scare me too. But I think they scare everyone.We’ll mess things up, I’m sure of that. But then we’ll sort them out again. There’s no-one Kassandra, _ no-one _who could ever understand us as well as we understand each other. We've worked so hard, just to get where we are. So much pain and hurt, but we made it this far. It would be a shame to waste all that hard work, and not give us a chance, don’t you think?”

Kassandra nodded and took a deep breath.

“I do, and I want to try. I’m not promising that I’ll get everything right, but I want to try. To make a life here with you, a home, a…” she tailed off awkwardly. “I have to try, Kyra, because the alternative is not being with you, and that hurts too much. I love you so much, you’re in my thoughts all the time when we’re apart. Where are you? What are you doing? Who are you with? Are you happy? Are you thinking about me?”

“Continually,” Kyra laughed softly. “This is it then?” she tilted her head up to meet Kassandra’s eyes. “We’re really doing this?” she saw Kassandra’s nod. “No more wandering off at a moment’s notice because things get too real?” she shook her head. “No more womanizing?” she raised her head and looked solemnly at her. “I’m serious Kassandra. Leaving aside the damage to my reputation...I do not want to share you with every tavern girl and hetaera between here and Arkadia. And if you don’t think you can do that.”

Kassandra put a silencing finger to her lips.

“I stopped that a long time ago, Kyra,” she held her eye. “I swear. Since, since _ that _ night, there’s been no-one else. I don’t want anyone else,” she shifted so she could rest her forehead against Kyra’s.

For a moment Kyra couldn’t speak. She’d expected a number of reactions to her demand. Defensive complaints about how other women meant nothing to her. Airy, affable promises to try her best, that Kassandra would forget the first time she was away from Kyra and a willing woman flashed her a look. Even for her to try to actively bargain Kyra down to casual encounters just while she was away from home for any length of time.

What she had not anticipated was this immediate and earnest admission. Not the look of total sincerity on Kassandra’s face as she drew back to look in her eyes. Kyra’s throat felt tight and she could feel a warm blush spreading over her cheeks that had nothing to do with arousal. She blinked a little to clear the unexpected tears and reached up to cradle Kassandra’s cheek gently, watching as she closed those startling eyes and leaned into Kyra’s touch, rubbing her cheek cat-like into her palm.

“Really?” Kyra breathed, barely loud enough to be heard. “All this time Kassandra? And you haven't…?” she couldn’t bring herself to complete the question, the answer was there, written large over Kassandra’s face as she opened her eyes again and nodded solemnly.

“There’s only you, Kyra. Even after everything we’ve been through, I feel like I haven’t explored a fraction of you yet.” she breathed, closing her eyes. “You’re all I want.”

They lay quietly like this for a few minutes, sharing breath and warmth, then Kyra took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure and chuckled.

“So?” she drew back a little to look at Kassandra. “Does this mean that you’re finally going to bring all your stuff here from the Adrestia?”

Kassandra laughed. “I don’t have that much _ stuff _. And I’m not sure why you’re so desperate to get my dirty boots in your bedroom.”

“_ Our _ bedroom,” Kyra corrected, smiling. “And it’s not the dirty boots I want here so much as the sweaty feet that go in them.”

“I do not have…” Kassandra began indignantly.

“Oh Kassandra,” Kyra intoned with mock solemnity. “Don’t let’s start this relationship with a lie,” she leaned up on one elbow and surveyed the room. “You’ll need a rack for your weapons and armour of course. We can have one made to your specifications if you like, but in the meantime,” she concentrated on one corner. “I’ll have Praxos bring one up from the guardhouse, and move that chair. No one ever uses it anyway.”

“Hmm,” Kassandra rolled onto her back, folding her hands behind her head and looking at the ceiling with a frown. “Maybe _ I _ should do that. I don’t know how fond of me Praxos is really.

“What makes you say that?” she turned and glanced down.

“He seemed sort of irritable this morning, _ and _ last night, come to think of it, just sort of pissed at me?”

Kyra took a breath and nodded.

“Last night, he didn’t understand why you left. Why you went down to faff about with herbal infusions while I was so upset. And then we did, genuinely, think you might have dozed off for a minute. You took ages.”

“You can be very particular about those grass drinks,” Kassandra raised an eyebrow. “No, I started thinking...about _ this _, about what I wanted to do. I lost track of time I suppose.”

“It was clearly worth the wait. You made the decision, acted on it, _ and _ you gave me something that actually tasted of chamomile, for the first time in our relationship,” she grinned. “Well worth Praxos’ displeasure.”

“I left the room because...I wasn’t needed. He had it all under control. It was like I wasn’t even there.”

“I understand that,” Kyra became serious. “It might be hard for him at first. He’s looked after me for so long, since I was just a child. It will be difficult for him to give that up.”

“I don’t want him to,” Kassandra protested. “He just needs to...learn to share. The protecting part at any rate,” she grinned.

“Urgh, do not even joke about that,” Kyra shuddered. “Honestly, he likes you well enough. Respects what you did during the rebellion...well most of it. I’ve overheard him talking about your fighting prowess and he’s full of admiration. It’s just that he suspects you’re unreliable, flighty, afraid of commitment.”

“I don’t suppose he was completely wrong at first,” Kassandra conceded. “He’s going to take me to the tavern on the pretense of a friendly drink and then promise to break my neck and drop me down a well if I hurt you, right?”

“Probably,” Kyra nodded. “I don’t think he’d drop you down a well though and risk contaminating a water source. Dump you near a wolf den maybe. It’s up to you how he feels about you Kassandra. If he sees that you’re working at this, that you’re in it for the long haul, then he’ll be happy. I think part of him worries that you’re just using me for sex.”

“He has _ not _ said that!” Kassandra gave her a scandalized gasp.

“Not in so many words,” Kyra laughed, “but I’ve learned to interpret his blushes. I told him that I was using you as well, but for some reason, he didn’t seem to want to hear that part.”

“No, I bet he didn’t!” she laughed. “I suppose I need to get some presentable armour now eh? Just to please Praxos?”

“It would please me too,” Kyra grinned wolfishly. “I see you in something...bronze maybe, Red chlamys. Lots of leg. Praxos may have different ideas, but who’s the Archon?”

“_ You’re _ the Archon,” Kassandra growled playfully, pulling her close.

“Damn straight,” Kyra laughed, rolling on top of her.

“And I’m the misthios,” Kassandra nuzzled softly against her neck.

“Exactly,” Kyra pulled back a little and looked a bit more serious. “And there’s something I want to ask you about that. You don’t need to answer right away. In fact I don’t _ want _ you to give me an answer right away. Not just now while you’re in a good mood and clearly hoping that you’re going to get lucky,” she smirked, feeling Kassandra’s hands sliding down to cup her ass. “I want you to take a little time to think it over.”

“Very well,” Kassandra assumed a serious expression and removed her hands. “Let’s have it.”

“I didn’t say you needed to stop,” Kyra chuckled, catching her hands and easing them back down. She sat up, straddling her hips, resting her full weight on Kassandra’s thighs and looked down at her with a serious expression. “I’d like you to reconsider your position with me.”

“You’d like me on top?” she gave her a wolfish grin and began to move her hips.

“Ey! No,” Kyra pushed her back down. “You’re not being half as amusing as you think you are right now. Your _ official _ position in relation to me.”

“You want to make me the Archon’s mistress?” she raised an eyebrow and heard Kyra sigh wearily in response.

“You’ve been the Archon’s mistress for a while now. I think that’s partly what Praxos is so irritated about. I’d like you to be the Archon’s _ misthios _. My bodyguard. I’d like you to be on the payroll.”

Kassandra continued her playful evasion.

“I don’t know about that Kyra,” she caressed her hips. “The prospect of receiving payment for guarding your body seems almost indecent.”

“For guarding my fully clothed body, you idiot,” she nudged Kassandra’s shoulder. “I’m serious. At the moment you’re some notorious hero who’s come swaggering into the villa, coming and going as you please. People have no way of knowing that you aren’t sharing more than my bed.”

“I have no interest in governing, you know that,” Kassandra shrugged. “All that...taxation and tariffs business, it bores me. I know it’s important!” she added quickly, catching Kyra’s look. “But I just can’t be interested in it.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she sighed. “But if you were by my side in an official capacity, liaising with Hippolytus and the guards, dealing with requests for help as my representative? I think it would help give a sense of legitimacy to your position. People would begin to relax about it. It would be a way of demonstrating that you’re here for good now, not sweeping in on a wave of notoriety to try and oust me. After all, it’s not as though we can get _ married _ to legitimize things.”

Kassandra blinked slowly and gave an audible swallow. Kyra didn’t seem to notice. A lot seemed to be happening all at once, she thought, feeling the stirrings of anxiety fluttering in her chest.

“You don’t have to answer now,” Kyra shifted to lie down in her arms and rested her head against her chest, yawning suddenly. “But will you at least give it some consideration?”

“I...yes, yes, of course I will,” Kassandra pressed an absent minded kiss to the crown of her head. “Absolutely.”

She dreamed that she was standing naked in the centre of a vast field of roses, stretching out in every direction as far her eye could see, deep red and warm pink. The sun was blazing against her back and the rich, cloying scent of the blooms filled her nostrils.There were no trees or shrubs to be seen, but she could hear the light trilling of birdsong. Blue and yellow butterflies brushed softly against her skin as she tilted back her head, closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

Driven by nothing but the overwhelming desire to move, she strode out through the thick carpet of blooms, feeling the hidden thorns scratching lightly at her legs. The further she walked, the taller and denser the roses grew until she was struggling through them, trickles of warm blood inching down her thighs. The perfume was so thick now that she was having trouble breathing. She should stop, she knew that by continuing she was only making things worse, trapping herself more securely with every step. But she couldn’t. On and on she walked, stroking the silky petals even as she felt the bite of thorns.

Soon they were up about her chest, clutching and dragging at her skin. She could feel them growing, impossibly fast, curling up around her torso, pinning her arms at her sides. Eventually their grip was too strong, she couldn’t take another step. They hugged her legs, gluing them to the loamy earth, bit hard into her thighs and hips. Kassandra looked down. The vicious woody stems were snaking up over her shoulders, insinuating themselves around her throat, squeezing tight. It was a struggle to breathe and when she did manage to take a painful inhalation there was no refreshing air, only the thick, cloying scent of roses, filling her lungs, making her head swim.

They grew even faster now, tangling in her hair, yanking out stinging clumps as they crawled over her face, blinding her, forcing themselves obscenely down her throat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, our plot begins to amble over the horizon!

“Gods, you look magnificent like this,” Kyra smiled at Kassandra as she took hold of a fistful of her hair, lifting her head from her breast to look into her eyes.

Kassandra didn’t have the wit to form a return compliment, or the breath to deliver it. All she could think of was the urgent driving of her hips against Kyra’s thigh, of Kyra’s fingernails now sharply dragging across her back. As the tension built to breaking point she closed her eyes, tilted her head back and called out mindlessly.

Neither of them had registered the light, hesitant tapping at the door that had preceded, but they both heard Savina’s startled squawk as she stepped in.

“Gods! I am so sorry. I do apologize, just let me,” she stammered backing out, tripping over her feet.

“Ah...fuck!” Kassandra panted, rolling off Kyra and flopping back on the bed, arms lolling above her head.

“Oh fuck, indeed,” Kyra was scrabbling upright. “What in Hades possessed you to tell her to come in?!”

“Eh?” Kassandra glanced sidelong at her. “I didn’t,” she protested. “I said I _ was _ coming. I didn’t hear her knock.”

“Get off, you great ox,” Kyra shook off her grasping hands as she climbed out of bed, reaching for a chiton. “It’s a good job it was Savina and not anyone else,” she strode to the door.

“Oh come on now,” Kassandra raised herself on her elbows. “_ You _ didn’t hear her either. Be honest. And Savina’s a married woman, she knows what’s going on.”

“It’s one thing knowing,” Kyra put her hand on the door handle as a clatter from the corridor suggested that Savina had dropped the tablet she’d been holding. “It’s quite another getting a faceful of your ass first thing in the morning,” she frowned, opening the door and finding Savina bent over, picking up her stylus.

“I don’t know that everyone would agree with you,” Kassandra grinned. “Good morning Savina!” she called, giving her a cheeky wink. “You’re looking lovely today, as always.”

“I..well..” a slow, deep blush spread down Savina’s throat. “I do apologise for the intrusion. I could have sworn I heard you tell me to come in.”

“Half right,” Kassandra grinned, brushing her tousled hair back from her eyes.

“Thank you Kassandra,” Kyra said with finality. “I can only apologise Savina. That was most unfortunate. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s a damn shame,” Kassandra laughed, flopping back onto the bed, hands behind her head, grinning shamelessly.

_ “ _ Yes _ , thank you _, Kassandra,” Kyra shot her a look. “Savina?” she turned with an apologetic smile.

“Ah yes,” she drew her eyes from the spectacle on the bed and swallowed, raising her chin and drawing back her shoulders as she tried to regain her composure. “I wanted to tell you that the gifts for the orphans have arrived. They’re in your office. Aegeus is looking after them, he seems to be getting quite attached to them actually.”

“Well perhaps we’ll get him one as well,” Kyra laughed. “As a thank you. He’s not a people person at the best of times but he did a very good job yesterday. I’ll be right down.”

“And the misthios' armour is there also,” Savina added as she turned away. “The servant had left before I could ask him to bring it up, but, perhaps that was for the best under the circumstances,” she shot a brief glance at Kassandra who was lying on her back with one leg in the air, scratching her ankle.

Kyra followed the glance and sighed heavily. “Thank you so much Savina I will be down shortly.” She turned and closed the door before walking over to the bed. “Will you behave!” she slapped Kassandra’s leg. “And stop scratching for Zeus’ sake.”

“I think perhaps Orion has fleas,” Kassandra examined her ankle.

“I beg your pardon!” Kyra stopped midway to her dressing table. “He has no such thing!”

“Not a judgement, just an observation,” Kassandra sat up and watched as Kyra pulled off her chiton and began to wash.”After all he’s romping around those meadows half the time. Anyway, what’s Aegeus bonding with in your office? And why is my armour down there?”

She turned to look at the chair where she’d left it the previous day. How had she not noticed it was missing when they went to bed?

“To answer your first question,” Kyra was washing her hands. “You’ll see soon enough. And to answer your second, because it was a filthy mess. I asked one of the servants to clean and oil it.”

“That was kind,” Kassandra got to her feet and walked over behind her. “But I could have done that today,” she bent to press a kiss to Kyra’s cheek before heading onto the balcony, stretching expansively.

“Not if you’re going…” Kyra was drying her face. “Hey! Get in here!” she spotted what she was doing. “The servants will see you.”

“Half the servants have seen me in the bath,” she reasoned, leaning back against the balustrade.

“That’s a completely different thing,” Kyra was halfway to going to drag her back in, when she realised she was naked herself. “Get in here this minute!” she hissed.

“Make me!” Kassandra grinned saucily.

“I’ll make you very sorry later, if you don’t,” Kyra promised, folding her arms.

Kassandra gave an affable but unapologetic shrug and ambled back inside.

“I had your armour cleaned,” Kyra began to dress. “Because I hoped you would accompany me this morning.”

“Where? To do what?” Kassandra took the washbowl and after checking that all was clear tipped the contents off the balcony, ignoring Kyra’s protests. “Am I doing this in an “official capacity”?” she smirked, filling the bowl and beginning to wash.

“I hadn’t planned on it, but after last night,” Kyra was sitting on the bed, fastening her sandals. “Regardless of your position, you’re going to live here now, and there are some residents that I would like to introduce you to.”

“Oh aye?” she dried her ears and gave Kyra a wary look.

“Don’t look like that, grumpy,” Kyra laughed, getting to her feet. “They’re very nice residents. I’d like you to come to the orphanage with me.”

Kassandra tossed the towel she’d been using onto a chair and gave Kyra a quizzical look.

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Because you aren’t a monster and you don’t want the children to be afraid of you?”

“Excuse me!” Kassandra frowned, hands on hips. “I don’t make a point of going around scaring children.”

“You can be unintentionally intimidating,” Kyra placed a reassuring hand on her chest. “And many of the children, well, some of them have had bad experiences with big, armoured thugs. Don’t look like that! You could well look like a thug to a six year old. I introduce all the new guards. I want those children to know that they can turn to them for help if they should ever need to. And I certainly would like them to think of _ you _ as someone they could go to if they needed help. Wouldn’t you?” she smiled softly.

Kassandra heaved a sigh, but conceded the point.

“Yes, of course,” she nodded, relaxing her stance. “So...what? You want me to go in armour?”

“Absolutely,” Kyra was by the door now. “For one thing you’ll be...guarding my body on the way,” she winked. “And for another I want them to get used to you in it, you wear armour half the time after all. Get dressed and come join us in my office when you’re ready, would you? _ You _ can give them the present!” she grinned.

Washed and dressed, Kassandra knocked lightly at the office door and walked in, stopping in her tracks almost immediately. Kyra and Savina were standing together by the door leading out to the terrace, amusement playing across their faces.

The catalyst for their expressions was sitting cross legged on the floor. Aegeus was cooing delightedly as three small, wobbly kittens clambered about in his lap.

“You are the most adorable little rascals, yes you are,” he scooped up a fuzzy black bundle and held it up to his face. The kitten gave a little meep of agreement as he rubbed his nose against its furry neck.

“Who is going to catch all of the nasty rats?” he held it up, beaming happily. “You are, aren’t you? Yes you are! And you as well little one,” he swept up a ginger kitten in his other hand as its little grey companion tumbled out of his lap.

“No more stealing food from the poor orphans with you mighty hunters around, eh?” he chuckled delightedly.

“Good morning Aegeus,” Kassandra said with a wry smile, watching as he turned to look at her, clearly startled.

“Ah! Good morning to you Misthios Kassandra,” he gently put down the kittens and scrabbled hastily to his feet. “I trust that you slept well after the emotional strain of yesterday?” he brushed cat hair from the skirts of his chiton.

“Like a baby,” Kassandra watched the kittens crawl over his feet. He clearly wanted to sit back down with them but was resisting the temptation. “Who are your friends?”

“They? Oh, yes,” he glanced down. “The Archon, in her wisdom, has acquired these...animals...for the orphanage. They have been having trouble with rats creeping about the food stores, spoiling the supplies.”

Kassandra sauntered over to him and gazed down at the stiff legged little bundles wandering about his ankles. The grey kitten waddled over to investigate the newcomer.

“I understand the principle,” she watched as it attempted to climb up the straps of her sandal. “But wouldn’t it, ow! You little sh..._ rascal _,” she corrected herself just in time, bending down to detach it from her calf. “But wouldn’t you be better off getting them a couple of big, burly mousers?” she held up the squirming little creature and gave it an assessing look. “This is scarcely bigger than a decent sized rat itself.”

“We all have to start somewhere Misthios,” he bristled, taking the kitten from her hand and hugging it to his chest. “No doubt you yourself were not born a huge warrior, but look at you now,” he pointed out.

Kassandra shot a dubious look at Kyra who was laughing and shaking her head.

“I hear your reasoning,” she smiled. “But I thought it would be good for the children to have something small and vulnerable to care for. Something that could grow and thrive under their ministrations.”

“And they’re so adorable,” Savina had scooped up the black kitten and was pressing light kisses to its head. “Children love kittens.”

“It’s a charming idea,” Kassandra conceded. “And you’re quite right Aegeus, before you know it they’ll be big ugly bruisers dragging dead rats through the orphanage.”

He shot her a disgusted look and bent to rescue the ginger kitten which was about to disappear under the desk.

“Maybe don’t lead with that image when you deliver them to the children,” Kyra suggested, smirking at Kassandra’s unimpressed expression.

“_ I’m _ taking the cats?” she sighed.

“Naturally, “Kyra nodded. “We want the children to see you as a friend. What better way to encourage friendship that these little fellows?”

“I know_ I _would certainly warm to someone who presented me with a kitten,” Savina smiled, holding the purring little bundle to her breast.

“Quite right Mistress Savina,” Aegeus looked over at her. “They are very lucky orphans, Archon.”

“Scarcely, Aegeus,” she reminded him. “Into the basket with them now, you two. Kassandra, your armour,” she nodded to where it sat across a couple of chairs. “If you could keep weaponry to a minimum just this once, I would certainly appreciate it.”

As they strolled through the streets to the orphanage, Kassandra with a basket of mewling kittens in one hand, she was painfully aware that she only had a small dagger, tucked discreetly into her boot. It was all very well not wanting to scare the children, she thought, but a handful of kittens and a glorified fruit knife were scarcely appropriate for the Archon’s bodyguard. And regardless of her casual dress and lack of laurels it was evident that everyone still knew who Kyra was.

Her shoulders were threatening to ache with tension by the time they reached their destination even though all the interactions they’d had were friendly and respectful. 

“Mistress Melina! The Archon is here! The Archon is here!” the excited voices of children roused her as they approached the building. One young boy had raced inside to spread the word, the others were running to greet Kyra, delighted grins on their faces. Noticing a few wary glances in her direction Kassandra drew back a couple of paces to allow them to cluster around Kyra, reaching for her hands and talking over one another in their eagerness.

“And how’s your knee?” she addressed a young girl at her side.

“It’s better now,” the child hopped on one foot, raising her other leg for Kyra to examine. “Mistress Melina says that it won’t even leave a mark.”

“Excellent,” she pressed a hand to the girl’s cheek. “No more climbing on the roof eh?”

“But the ball was up there Archon,” she explained, “and the littler ones were crying.”

“Well, climbing on the roof, but more carefully eh?” Kyra laughed. “Perhaps we can get Praxos to do it next time?” she winked.

There was a chorus of delighted giggles at the unlikely image.

“Or maybe we can get our friend Kassandra here to show you how to do it more safely?” she indicated her.

Kassandra found herself the subject of a number of curious looks. Most of the children eyed her up and down but a couple were craning their necks to make out what she was holding.

“You could teach the children to climb, don’t you think?” Kyra gave her a hopeful smile.

The children waited, bouncing with anticipation.

“I suppose so,” she conceded, looking up at the roof. “Climbing is fun,” she cast a glance around her audience. “If you learn how to do it safely.” She wasn’t sure that the woman who ran the place would be as enthusiastic as Kyra seemed to be. “Do you want me on the roof right now?” she asked hopefully.

“No, not right this minute, Misthios,” Kyra gave her an arch smile. “Perhaps later?”

“Archon!” Melina emerged from the dim doorway, a gaggle of smaller children milling around her skirts. “What a delight to see you. And Misthios Kassandra,” she smiled. “Welcome. I didn’t tell the children about your visit Archon, I wasn’t sure if you would be here given the circumstances.”

“Everything is being dealt with,” Kyra took her hand briefly. “I wanted to see the children, and honestly, if we’d had to keep hold of their surprise for much longer I don’t think I’d have been able to pry them away from Aegeus,” she laughed.

“Ah!” Melina gave the basket a knowing look and clapped her hands sharply. “Come along children, let the Archon and Misthios Kassandra get inside out of the sun now, run along and pour some water for our visitors please,” she ruffled the hair of a young boy by her side. “If any of you are staying outside to play, make sure to keep to the shade.”

Inside the orphanage it was cool and spacious. There were cushions scattered about the floor of the main room, a few stools and tables around the sides. In the corner by the back door a young woman sat in a comfortable chair, a small baby suckling at her breast. A wet nurse, Kassandra imagined, looking away politely. 

Tucked back against one corner was a small, scrawny looking boy. Unlike the other children he looked subdued and poorly fed, his knobbly elbows and knees covered in the thick scabs of healing wounds. He glanced up, hollow eyed as they entered, taking in Kyra’s appearance calmly enough, but flinching a little at Kassandra’s entrance. 

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile as he hugged his knees and tried to sink back against the wall. His appearance roused distant, dark memories for her and she kept an eye on him as Melina fussed about, trying to wrangle the children sufficiently to allow Kyra to settle herself.

“We don’t need chairs Melina,” she was shaking her head. “We’re quite happy on the floor, isn’t that right Misthios Kassandra?”

“Hmm?” she glanced up at the sound of her name. “Oh, the floor, yes, of course.”

“Alright children, shuffle back a little, back a bit further...further still, cheeky,” Melina wagged a finger at one reluctant girl. “Give the Misthios room to sit now.”

A few moments later they were both sitting, cross legged on the floor, surrounded by curious, expectant little faces. One persistent toddler had managed to squirm his way onto Kyra’s lap and she was stroking his tousled hair gently.

“Now, everyone,” Melina raised her voice. “Everyone settle down, keep nice and quiet, because the Archon has a surprise for you,” she cast a quick glance over to the boy in the corner. He was still hugging his knees, but he’d raised his head now, there was a spark of curiosity in his deep shadowed eyes.

“Thank you Melina,” Kyra absently stroked the hair of the little boy in her lap. His head had drooped to her breast and he seemed to have fallen asleep. “I have two exciting things to tell you, but one of them is probably a lot more exciting than the other. So I’ll save the most exciting one for last.”

Kassandra smiled to herself and put a hand on the basket at her side, ready to open it.

“First of all I’d like to introduce you to a new friend who is coming to live with us on Mykonos, Misthios Kassandra,” she held out a hand towards her.

Kassandra gave her an affronted look before turning to smile at the children.

“Just Kassandra,” she shrugged. “I’d prefer it if you would all just call me Kassandra.”

“Excellent,” Kyra nodded, casting an approving glance at her. “Kassandra and I have been friends for a long time and she has already helped us a lot here on the Silver Islands. She’s decided that she likes it here so much that she’d like to live with us, here on Mykonos. So that’s exciting news, no?”

A murmur of interest rippled though the audience and a few of the closer youngsters inched forward inquisitively.

“Some of you may have already seen her around the town and wondered who the big, scary looking stranger was,” she continued, ignoring Kassandra’s offended side glance. “But because she’s going to be staying here now, she wanted to come and meet you all so that you could find out that she’s not big and scary at all.”

“She’s _ big _,” one of the audience evidently disagreed.

“A fair point,” Kyra conceded. “But not scary. Not to all of _ you _ anyway. Kassandra would you like to say something?”

It sounded very much like an instruction rather than a query. Kassandra sat up straight and assumed her blandest, least threatening expression.

“Yes, of course,” she took a deep breath. The boy in the corner was watching her intently. “Well, hello my young friends,” she smiled, and waited for the chorus of “Hello Kassandra” to die down.

“Ky...The Archon is quite right, I do like it very much here on the Islands and I’m looking forward to becoming friends with all of you,” she shot a glance at the young boy. “I will be living at the villa with Praxos and Savina... and the Archon of course,” she glanced cautiously at Melina. Her face was admirably impassive. “But you’ll see me wandering around the town I’m sure. And even though I apparently look big and scary, I want you to know that you don’t ever need to be afraid of me. If you see me walking around, please say hello.”

“Even if you’re on a roof?” one boy chimed in,”cos I saw you on a roof one time.”

“Yes,” Kassandra nodded thoughtfully. “Even if I’m on a roof. Though you may have to say it a bit louder then of course.” there was a ripple of polite laughter and she began to relax.

“Kassandra is going to teach us how to climb, Mistress Melina” the young would be mountaineer blew the lid. “So I don’t fall off again.”

“Is she now?” Melina looked a bit less impassive now.

“It was Kyr..the Archon’s idea,” Kassandra said defensively. “But it is better to know how to do it safely...if they’re going to be doing it...anyway…” she tailed off.

“Yes, well. We’ll discuss that later,” she said coolly. “Please do continue Misthios.”

“Anyway,” Kassandra cleared her throat. “I know that I look a bit scary, what with the armour and the sword and spear and everything that you may have seen. But I need those things to help me to do my job. Like I’d need a hammer and a saw if I was a carpenter.”

“What _ is _ your job?” came a voice from the back row.

Kassandra could feel Kyra’s warning gaze boring into the side of her head.

“Well,” she took a breath and gave it some consideration. “I’m here to help people if they’re in trouble. To stop people from fighting. Stop big people picking on folks who are too small to defend themselves…”

“Like us?” one eager young girl had shuffled forward right up to her and rested a sticky hand on her knee.

“Yes!” Kassandra nodded gratefully. “Exactly like you all. I’m here to help protect the Archon, but I’m here to protect you as well. So if you’re ever worried about anything, or scared, you can come and talk to me if you like and I’ll try to help, and if I can’t then I’ll find someone who can. And I hunt too,” she grinned, hitting her stride. “For food, or if animals are being dangerous.”

“Like a lion?!” came an excited query.

Kyra noticed Kassandra flinch slightly and unconsciously pull down the right sleeve of her tunic.

“I don’t think we need to worry about lions too much here in town,” she came to her rescue. “They all live out in the wilds, well away from people.”

“But if there was a dangerous lion threatening us, then yes, a lion,” Kassandra had recovered herself. “Any questions?”

“I like your armour,” one of the younger children ventured.

“That’s not a question!” her neighbour protested.

“No, it’s not,” Kyra laughed kindly, hugging the sleeping toddler a little closer as he shifted and mumbled. “But it’s a very good way to get Kassandra to like you.”

“Thank you,” she grinned. “I had it cleaned specially so I could look smart when I came to see you.”

“Was it covered in blood?!”

“Ey, what?” she shot a look towards the back of the room. “No! No, it was just a bit grubby is all.”

“Why is it so dinged,” the girl by her knee reached out and ran a sticky finger along a large dent at the base of her breastplate just above her belt.

“That?” she looked down. “Oh, that was a boar. He fought really well, but I won. And then I ate him!” she grinned.

“All on your own?” breathed her new admirer. “Is that why you’re so big?”

“No, no. Not all on my own, I had some help. But I can eat a _ lot _ of boar,” she boasted, playfully patting her belly.

“How did you get those big scars on your arm?” one of the older boys frowned. “Was that a boar?”

“These?” she flexed impressively, sensing Kyra rolling her eyes.”No, that was a _ bear _!”

An awed murmur spread around her attentive audience. 

“Gods.There’ll be no stopping her now,” she heard Kyra whisper to Melina.

“You hunted a bear?! All on your own?”

“Well, I had some help,” she fingered the thick bands of scar tissue absently. “I have a friend called Phoibe. She helped save my life that night,” her eyes were drawn to the huddled boy. He’d shuffled much closer now, in amongst the other children and was gazing at her with big soulful eyes.

“Does she live here too?” the girl by her knee asked hopefully. “Is she a big hunter, like you?”

“No, no,” Kassandra said quietly. “She lives back on an island called Kephallonia. She’s not big yet. But, by the time she’s as old as I am, then yes, she’ll be a mighty hunter,” she gave a melancholy smile.

“But!” she brightened. “Big animals like that can be very dangerous. Even for someone as big and strong as me. That bear nearly killed me. So you mustn’t ever go looking for them. Leave that sort of thing to people like me, and Praxos. That’s what we’re here for.”

“Are you going to live here forever?” the girl was leaning on her knee now, gazing up adoringly.

“Well,” she glanced over to Kyra. She was slowly rocking the child in her lap and looking back at her with a fond expression. Kassandra swallowed hard, looked around the room, taking in all the occupants. The huddle of wide eyed children, Melina and Kyra, the wet nurse in the corner gently rubbing the baby’s back, the small undernourished boy gazing intently at her.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” she said decisively. “I’m coming here to be the Archon’s personal bodyguard, her Misthios. I’m going to protect _ her _ and I’m going to protect all of _ you _ too. And I’ve brought you a present, to celebrate,” she blinked hard and swallowed before reaching out and opening the basket that had remained forgotten by her side, throughout all this. 

“These little guys will help to protect you too. When they’re a bit older,” she lifted out the ginger kitten which mewled in protest till she put it down. Scooping out its grey companion she popped it down on the floor beside it.

There was a chorus of enchanted “oohs” as the children shuffled closer.

“Not too close, children,” Melina called. “Don’t crowd them now, they’re very small and there are a lot of you.”

“The Archon tells me that you have rats coming and stealing your food,” Kassandra fished out the black kitten and placed it on her lap, tickling its ears gently. “They’re very little now, and they’re going to need you to take good care of them so that they can grow to be big and strong,” the silent boy had shuffled up, right next to her now. She could feel his bony knee pressing against her thigh. 

“But when they do,” she gently placed the kitten in his lap without looking at him, “they will become mighty hunters too. And then those rats had better watch out, eh?” she grinned.

The children were clustered around the other kittens now, reaching out with gentle hands to pat and stroke them, laughing as they stumbled around, clambering over the closest children’s feet.

The black kitten was curled up, purring in the little boy’s lap. Kassandra watched quietly as he reached out and tentatively stroked it.

“I think he likes you,” she smiled. “He’s very tiny. He needs someone to look after him and protect him till he’s big enough to do it for himself.”

The boy didn’t look up. His eyes were fixed on the kitten but Kassandra saw him take a big, hitching breath. He spoke so quietly that she had to lean down to make out what he was saying.

“Have you ever killed a wolf?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve killed a lot of wolves in my time. But only when they were causing trouble.”

“Bad wolves?” he whispered. “You kill bad wolves?”

“Yes, my young friend, I kill bad wolves,” she said softly. “I’ve killed many bad wolves in many places,” she watched as he stroked the sleeping kitten with shaky fingers. “And if there are bad wolves here on Mykonos, I will kill _ them _ too. I promise you,” she put a gentle hand on his bony shoulder.

“Good,” he said quietly as a tear rolled off his nose onto the kitten’s back, hung there for a moment and then sank into its fur.

  
  


“We don’t know exactly what happened,” Kyra said as they walked back to the villa. “He’s still too traumatized to speak about it. I think he’s trying not to remember. But he’ll be alright eventually. Melina is very good with the children who need sensitive handling...which has been all of them at some point or another, of course.”

They walked on in silence for a little while.

“All we know is that Nikos' family were eaten by wolves,” she glanced up at Kassandra. “But I suspect you’d worked that out for yourself. Who knows how long he spent hiding. He fell right out of a tree on top of one of the guards, exhausted, starving, dehydrated. For a little while we didn’t know if he’d even survive, but Rhea worked her magic. You did very well to get anything out of him. He’s still not speaking much and he doesn’t like strangers.”

“He reminded me of someone is all,” Kassandra tried to sound dismissive but it wasn’t very convincing.

“Phoibe?” Kyra ventured.

“A little, yes,” she hooked her thumbs in her belt and looked down at the path as they strolled along.

“You must miss her?” Kyra asked quietly. “And I’m sure she must miss you.”

“She’s used to it,” Kassandra shrugged. “I’ve been away a lot. She has Selene and the others to look after her.”

“Not quite the same, though?” Kyra smiled cautiously.

“They love her, keep her safe. There’s no way I could,” she gave a humourless huff.

“Well, not until now,” Kyra ventured. There was a pause where she could almost hear Kassandra thinking. She allowed it to run on for a little while.

“I’d like to meet them,” she continued airily, “all of them, but Phoibe especially. Perhaps I could come with you the next time you go to visit?” she tried to sound casual, but without much success.

“Really?” Kassandra looked down at her, surprised and hopeful. “You could do that? Leave Mykonos for so long?”

“Well not tomorrow, obviously,” Kyra laughed, “but I wouldn’t exactly be abandoning my post, Praxos, Savina and Aegeus are able to deal with most things in my absence. They’ve done so before when I’ve been away on business. It could be arranged.”

Kassandra grinned excitedly and reached for her hand, but Kyra drew it away quickly.

“Not here, Kassandra,” she looked about her.

“I’m sorry,” she retreated, crestfallen.

“Don’t be sorry,” Kyra smiled apologetically. “I want to, but...we can’t...not here.”

“Yes, of course, I understand.”

They walked the next few paces in awkward silence, broken eventually by Kyra.

“Kassandra? Did you mean what you said back there, to the children?”

“I meant everything I said to the children,” she kicked a pebble up the path. “Well, perhaps not the roof climbing bit, because Melina did _ not _ seem to be on board with that.”

“I’ll work on her,” Kyra chuckled, “leave it with me. But did you?...Mean it?”

“Which bit?” she evaded, “I said a lot of stuff back there.”

“Kassandra!” Kyra warned.

There was a significant pause before Kassandra drew a breath and spoke.

“Yes. Yes I did. I’ve decided that I do want to do it, be your official…whatever.”

“But you seemed so hesitant last night. Reluctant even. What changed?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “There was something about us being there like that together, with those children. They love you Kyra. They need protecting from much more than rats and you’re doing that and... I don’t know, really. It felt like something I wanted to help you with, something just as important as chasing after rogue bears and bandits and it didn’t seem bad, or like giving up something...it seemed good.”

“Are you sure?” Kyra inched a little closer as they walked on. “It would make me your boss, after all? I mean it’s one thing me being in control in the bedroom?” she arched an eyebrow.

Kassandra snorted.

“In control!” she chuckled. “You wish!”

“You keep telling yourself that, Misthios,” Kyra laughed. “We’ll see who’s in control tonight!” 

They walked on for a few paces, Kassandra shaking her head in amusement, but after a while she cleared her throat quickly and glanced sidelong at Kyra.

“I’m not saying that it won’t take some getting used to,” Kassandra scuffed her feet in the dust. “But I do want to give it a shot. And I am willing to try new things,” she gave her a mischievous look.

“Well that is undeniably true,” Kyra winked at her. “You can be very experimental when the mood takes you. Can we tell Praxos?”

“About me being experimental in the bedroom?!” Kassandra glanced down, startled.

“No, you oaf!” Kyra laughed. “I don’t want him crossing the Styx prematurely. About you, staying and taking on the role of bodyguard?”

“I don’t see why not? He’ll need to know sooner rather than later I suppose, why do you ask?”

“Because he’s coming over the meadow, right now,” Kyra nodded.

They saw him striding merrily along, a half dozen rabbits strung over his shoulder, and prancing proudly alongside him was Orion, a dead pigeon hanging from his mouth. Praxos spotted them a few moments after they’d spotted him and hastily grabbed Orion’s collar.

They both watched in amusement as he struggled to persuade the dog to relinquish his prize. Succeeding at last he casually tossed it behind him into a patch of scrub. Orion instantly decided that this was a wonderful game, pulled away from Praxos’ grasp and bounced off in pursuit.

“Forget it, Praxos,” Kyra called, laughter in her voice. “Let him have it. Gods know what you let him eat while he’s out with you anyway.”

“He’s sleeping with Praxos again tonight,” Kassandra hissed as the big man strode over, a little shamefaced.

“I was just on my way to the orphanage,” he indicated the string of game. “There should be enough here for a decent stew.” Orion bounded over, the dead pigeon swinging wildly from his jaws. He stopped in front of Praxos and dropped it, then sat wagging his tail frantically.

“He wants you to throw it again,” Kyra nodded.

“I have no idea where he found that!” Praxos lied feebly.

“What an exceedingly naughty dog he is!” Kyra said dryly, picking up the pigeon and hefting it back into the bushes. Orion set off after it with an excited bark.

“We’ve just been to the orphanage,” Kyra accepted Kassandra’s offered handkerchief and wiped her hands. 

“Oh right!” he nodded. “Well no one’s going to be impressed with my dead rabbits after your live kittens,” he sighed.

“They will come supper time,” Kassandra consoled.

“Aye, happen,” Praxos watched as Orion strutted back with the pigeon. His head was held high, the bird’s was missing.

“I’m not throwing that now,” Kyra shook her head. “Give it to Kassandra!” she instructed.

Orion dropped the bedraggled corpse at Kassandra’s feet and grinned expectantly. She gave Kyra a mock resentful look before picking it up, drawing her arm back and sending the dead bird arcing far off over the bushes and out of sight. Orion barked wildly and set off at full tilt.

“As I was saying,” Praxos hitched the rabbits a little higher on his shoulder. “You can’t make stew out of kittens.”

“Praxos!” Kyra reproved. “Do NOT say that in front of the children.”

“It’s true, I imagine,” Kassandra shrugged. “I once had nothing to eat but a dead lynx and..”

“Kassandra!” Kyra frowned. “Do not!”

“How are the nippers anyway,” Praxos laughed heartily.

“Very excited to meet Kassandra,” Kyra smiled and gave a meaningful pause before continuing. “Very enthusiastic about her living here, and becoming my personal Misthios.”

“Ey?” Praxos had been watching Orion’s progress, he was snuffling round urgently from bush to bush off in the distance. “You say what?” he looked from Kyra to Kassandra and back again.

“Kassandra has decided to live here permanently and has agreed to become my official bodyguard and our Misthios,” Kyra watched his surprised expression with some satisfaction.

“Really?” he turned to look at Kassandra who was beginning to think she’d thrown the pigeon too far.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I decided it was about time I settled down. And you’re right, Kyra does need someone to stand beside her, to support her. I’m ready to be that person at last.”

“Excellent. Excellent!” he thumped her so hard on the shoulder that she had to take a step back to regain her balance. “It’s not before time, you great daft ox. I was beginning to wonder what was wrong with you!” 

An ecstatic woof from across the meadow announced that Orion had finally found his prey. They watched as he pranced happily across the field towards them, tail and head held high.

“Take him with you to see the children,” Kyra suggested. “Don’t let him take that damned pigeon though. And both of you watch out for the kittens, they’re very small.”

“Aye, right, will do,” he set off, slapping his leg for Orion to follow. He’d walked a few paces when he shouted back.

“Kassandra!”

She stopped and turned.

“Tonight, join us at Mikis’ for a few drinks. Just me and Nike. Don’t be late.”

“That wasn’t a request, was it?” she glanced down at Kyra as Praxos strode off with a spring in his step, Orion trotting happily along beside him.

“Not really, no,” Kyra decided. “He’s going to give you the shovel talk I imagine.”

“Shit,” Kassandra sighed as they walked on. “Is your sister going to do it as well?”

“Possibly Kassandra,” Kyra laughed. “Possibly!”

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fishbone76 came within a whisker of summing up my writing style as "sex and slapstick" the other day, which I have to concede is not entirely incorrect.  
Guess which you're getting in this chapter?

When Kassandra strode into, what she supposed she should start thinking of as_ their _private room later that evening, she was surprised to see that Savina was still present, even though the sun had gone down.

She and Kyra were sitting close together, thighs touching. There were neat stacks of papyri on the low table in front of them, but they didn’t seem to be holding the women’s attention. There were also two cups and a small jug of wine.

“I don’t know Kyra,” Savina was saying softly. “I think perhaps it’s just not going to happen. Not everyone is blessed that way. Rhea says not to worry about it so…” she looked up, flushing a little as Kassandra ambled over to them, and began to get to her feet.

“Good evening, Misthios Kass…”

Even as Kassandra began to demur, Kyra had a gentle hand on her arm to ease her back down.

“That’s not necessary, Savina, you wouldn’t stand to greet Praxos, there’s no need to stand for Kassandra.”

I...very well,” she considered.

“There’s no need to call me Misthios either,” Kassandra pulled up a chair, swung it round and straddled it. “Just Kassandra will be fine, all the standing and titles...it just makes me feel uncomfortable.”

Savina glanced to Kyra for confirmation and received a smiling nod.

“Certainly in informal situations like this there’s no need to use titles,” she glanced over to Kassandra and gave her a wry look. “You have no doubt already begun to realize that our Misthios prefers a more..._ casual _ approach to things. We’ll have to work on her together,” she patted Savina’s hand.

“Well, I’ll certainly look forward to _ those _ lessons,” Kassandra folded her arms on the chair back and rested her chin on them, a playfully wolfish grin on her face.

Savina blushed. Kyra rolled her eyes.

“Did you have a good reason for coming in here? Or was it just to further embarrass Savina? Ignore her, by the way, Savina.”

“In fairness, I didn’t even know she was here,” Kassandra shrugged, “it was just a lovely surprise,” she winked.

Kyra gave her a warning look.

“Thinking on your feet? It would be impressive if you were using it for something other than being lecherous. Anyway, what was your original plan? Aren’t you supposed to be going out this evening?”

“Mmm,” Kassandra nodded “That was what I wanted to ask you about. As I’m there with Praxos and Ni…” she suddenly stopped and glanced at Kyra.

“Don’t worry,” she picked up her cup and took a sip. “Savina knows all about Nike and..”

“_ All _ about Nike?” Kassandra swallowed.

“All about us being related,” Kyra replied carefully. “And fortunately for me she is as good at keeping information to herself as she is about acquiring it.”

“Right,” she gave a small sigh of relief. “I just wanted to know if it was appropriate to go dressed like this, or if I should wear armour?”

Kyra found herself oddly touched by Kassandra’s seeking advice over something she wouldn’t have thought twice about a couple of weeks ago.

“It rather depends,” Kyra looked her up and down. “Were you planning on starting a bar fight?”

“I wasn’t planning on it, no,” she shrugged, ”but I can’t speak for Praxos obviously.”

“Then assuming you can refrain from coming to blows with him or the other customers, what you’re wearing will be fine. It’s quite appropriate for a few casual drinks with friends.”

“Right. I thought so,” Kassandra shrugged, making no attempt to get on her way.

“Shouldn’t you be making a move?” Kyra rearranged a couple of the sheets on the table before refilling Savina’s cup. “I distinctly recall Praxos telling you not to be late,” she glanced up with a playful expression.

“Yes, I suppose so,” she seemed reluctant to leave. “You don’t need me for anything?” there was a hopeful undertone to her question.

“No, no, Savina and I have everything in hand here. You go and have a good time,” Kyra smirked, recognizing her nervousness.

Kassandra got to her feet at last and replaced the chair. As she moved towards the couch, Savina got to her feet but before she could remind her that it was unnecessary she had turned towards Kyra.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I think I may have left a stylus out on the terrace. I’ll only be a moment,” Savina made for the doors.

“Let me give you a hand,” Kassandra leapt at the opportunity to delay. “I’ll bring a lamp, it will be dark out there.”

Kyra caught her arm as she passed and held her back.

“She’s politely giving us a moment,” she hissed. “To say goodbye.”

“Ah!” Kassandra sighed. “Well in that case, I suppose it would be ungracious not to take advantage of it,” she bent and kissed her softly. “You’re sure that you don’t mind me going?” she breathed, resting her forehead against Kyra’s.

“Indeed not,” she smiled. “I want you to go. You and Praxos are two of the most important people in my life. I’d like you to get along. And don’t worry, he’s not going to try and kill you right there in the tavern,” she laughed. “Nike wouldn’t allow it.”

Kassandra gave a sigh and stood upright.

“Very well then. I won’t be too late,” she called goodnight to Savina who was lingering on the terrace, examining her fingernails.

Kyra shook her head, laughing, “You’ll be pretty late if you’re out with Praxos, so don’t make fragile promises. Just try to stay out of trouble. And Kassandra?” she called after her.

“Hmm?” she stopped at the door.

“Don’t get too drunk! Or let Praxos get too drunk...or Nike for that matter.”

“Look,” Kassandra grinned, “do you just want to come along and keep an eye on us?”

“I have work to do,” Kyra indicated the table as Savina resumed her seat beside her. “Otherwise I might consider it. I can drink the three of you under the table after all,” she grinned.

“Next time then eh?” Kassandra winked, closing the door behind her.

The night air was pleasantly warm as she ambled along to the tavern. People were still milling about and she was pleased and a little surprised to see the beginnings of a change in their responses to her. Ordinarily she had noticed that many people, on seeing the towering misthios swaggering down the street towards them, would cross the road to keep out of her way, and only rarely would they do more than meet her eyes briefly and nod.

Tonight however she was on the receiving end of a few smiles and greetings. It felt nice, she decided. Perhaps word had got round of her presence at the meeting the previous day, or possibly she’d been spotted with Kyra at the orphanage? Whatever it was, she felt much better about things, more confident in the decision she’d made. She could live here among these people, work with them, help them, protect them, just as she had back on Kephallonia.

Thinking back to that reminded her of Kyra’s earlier suggestion. She’d spoken to her about Phoibe in the past, but Kyra had never previously expressed any interest in meeting her, or in visiting Kassandra’s childhood home. And why would she, she reproved herself? Why would Kyra consider that, when Kassandra was still edging around the business of settling down?

The thought of taking her back to meet her odd little family, to introduce her to Phoibe, made something flutter excitedly in her belly. She could show Kyra where she had grown up, where she’d learned to hunt and climb and fish. She could meet the people who’d helped raise her. She could meet Phoibe, she grinned to herself. They would love each other she just knew it, feeling a spring in her step, they had so much in common. Who knew, perhaps it would be possible to bring Phoibe back with them? To let her see where Kassandra was living now, what she was doing, to let her get to know the woman she had fallen in love with. 

She was so caught up in the idea of introducing them that she temporarily forgot her nerves about her trip to the tavern, but as she rounded the final corner and saw the lights and heard the noise, she slowed her pace. Part of her was surprised that Kyra was even permitting this, let alone that she seemed so enthusiastic about it. The relationship between Nike and the Archon was a closely guarded secret, she knew. 

Nike would come to visit at odd hours on occasion, casually dressed and cloaked and taking the back route to arrive, but they were never seen in public together. It was sad Kassandra thought, that Kyra should have found the remnants of her family after all this time and not be able to embrace them openly for fear of the damage to her reputation. Just because Nike was a hetaera. It seemed ridiculous. But she was well aware that acknowledging her openly would throw wide the door to speculation about Kyra’s parentage.

There was already idle gossip, she knew that. Both about who Kyra was and about the disarming resemblance between the Archon and the hetaera. But that’s all it was, idle tavern talk, easily derailed, and Nike had done her part, by wearing her hair and dressing in such a way as to subtly diminish the resemblance between them. As for Nike’s meetings with Praxos, they had been friends for a long time and Kassandra supposed that if people talked they assumed that they were having an affair.

She herself had inadvertently redirected gossip. Tired old rumours were pushed far onto the back burner when the handsome young misthios arrived on the Islands, trailing notoriety behind her like a cloak. Who cared to drunkenly speculate about Kyra’s lineage when Kassandra of Sparta was strutting in and out of the leader’s villa at all hours of the day and night? 

No wonder then that Kyra was so keen to put their relationship on a more legitimate footing. And if people _ did _ take note of the Hound of the Aegean drinking and socializing with Praxos and the lovely hetaera then she assumed that the resulting speculation would be salacious enough to totally dethrone gossip about Kyra’s parentage. Kassandra could deal with scandalous bar-room talk about her supposed appetites. In fact she’d thrived on it in her youth, though she fancied Kyra might greet it with less enthusiasm when she herself began to experience it first hand.

All the same, that wasn’t why she was nervous as she entered the bustling tavern and looked about for Praxos and Nike. Kyra’s parents were dead, and she had no acknowledged siblings. The people she was about to spend the evening with were two of the most important people in her life, the two who loved Kyra just as much as Kassandra did. The two who would be most willing to feed her to the sharks if she toyed with Kyra’s heart.

“So I said to him, I’m not saying no, darling, but I charge _ a lot _ more for that!”

She heard Nike’s voice and Praxos’ answering bellow of laughter and spotted them sitting at the far end of the bar. They were at a table situated in a small alcove surrounded on three sides by walls, but which still gave an uninterrupted view of the busy room. Kassandra shouldered her way through the crowd over towards them.

“Ah, here she is!” Praxos spotted her approaching, head and shoulders above the majority of the patrons and waved her over.

“Better late than never eh?” Nike inclined her head to receive Kassandra’s kiss. “We were beginning to wonder if you couldn’t drag yourself away from your eager lover,” she laughed, moving to allow her to pass and take a seat.

“No, no,” she shot a nervous glance in Praxos’ direction but he was still grinning, face a little flushed. Kassandra assumed that was down to the mug of ale in his hand and the empty jug on the table. “She’s hard at work, with Savina,” she kept her voice as low as she could while still being heard.

“That girl needs to take a night off now and again, actually they both do,” Praxos waved an arm to attract the serving girl’s attention. “Another jug,” he called. “No, make it two!”

“I was just going to go and get some wine,” Kassandra spotted that there was only ale on the table, along with a bowl of salted almonds and some dried squid. “I thought I’d get some of those little olive biscuits as well to take back. Ky..._ she _ loves those,” she self corrected hastily.

“Already done, my friend,” Praxos slapped her on the back and indicated a cloth wrapped package on the seat beside him.

“Oh!” Kassandra nodded, a little deflated.

“Don’t worry,” Nike noticed and patted her hand comfortingly. “She wants other things from you than tavern snacks. Here,” she filled the empty mug that had been waiting for Kassandra. The bitter scent of ale wafted up. “We have a bit of a start on you. Well _ I _do, Praxos here is pretty much lapping us already.”

“I...yeah,” she glanced down at the mug with its ring of thin foam.

“Oh yes,” Praxos laughed. “Thank you my dear,” he nodded at the girl who was placing the foaming jugs on the table. “Keep them coming. I have a mighty thirst tonight.”

“When don’t you?” she grinned. “Anything else?”

“Yes please sweetheart,” Nike touched her arm gently. “Some of those olive biscuits. This great bear clearly isn’t going to share his.”

Kassandra had been about to ask the servant for wine, but Praxos’ beefy arm slamming around her shoulders distracted her.

“Kassandra here, is determined that she doesn’t like ale,” he grinned at Nike. “Tonight is the night to educate her palate, eh?”

“I can understand that,” Nike smiled, holding out the mug for her. “It can be an acquired taste. But like all new things, you shouldn’t dismiss it until you’ve given it a fair trial,” she winked.

“Right,” she cleared her throat. “If you insist, I suppose,” she glanced up as the bowl of small, crisp biscuits appeared on the table. 

“We do,” Praxos gave her shoulders a squeeze. “We’re going to insist on a few things tonight, my young friend!”

Kassandra took a tentative sip and grimaced a little.

“No, it’s still not good,” she glanced up at their amused expressions.

“Such a baby,” Praxos laughed shoveling a handful of almonds into his mouth.

“Don’t be a bully,” Nike reproved, inching closer to Kassandra on the bench till their thighs were touching. “No one was ever seduced by a bully.”

“Well just remember that you’re only trying to give her a thirst for _ ale _, Nike,” he mumbled around his mouthful of almonds. 

“That will do, Praxos,” Nike gave him a stern look. “Eat your almonds and keep quiet for a bit,” she turned her attention to Kassandra who was looking anxiously at him.

“Now,” Nike placed a gentle hand over hers and guided her back to the mug. “Stop thinking about fruit and get your mouth ready for grain,” she advised. “Let’s give it an honest try and if you still don’t like it, we’ll get you some wine. I’ve never forced anyone to do anything against their inclinations,” she winked, ignoring Praxos’ low grumble. “Take a sip, not too much, let it sit in your mouth for a while. This is very good beer by the way, Mikis imports it from Egypt. Bad beer is just as bad as bad wine.”

“That’s the truth,” Praxos took a swig and wiped foam from his whiskers. “And I've had both.”

“Water is better than either,” Nike smiled, watching Kassandra’s thoughtful expression. “That’s it, roll it around your tongue a little, I _ know _ you know how to do that,” she smirked, laughing as Kassandra swallowed unexpectedly and coughed. “Let’s try that again, eh?” she watched as she wiped her eyes and obediently took another mouthful. “See if you can taste the barley,” she waited. “Swallow when you’re ready, and look for the hint of sweetness in the aftertaste.”

Kassandra followed her instructions. 

“Hmm,” she frowned thoughtfully. “It’s not so bad, really,” she looked down at her mug. “Strange, but not so bad.”

“That’s the spirit,” Nike reached out and wiped a little foam from Kassandra’s upper lip with her thumb. “Try again and then tell me if you’d still prefer wine.”

By the time she was halfway through the mug and had eaten a handful of biscuits and a couple of pieces of dried squid Kassandra had forgotten about the wine.

“I can’t tell you how delighted I am to hear that you’ve come to your senses at last,” Nike was saying as she slapped Praxos’ fist out of the bowl of almonds and took a couple herself. “I was beginning to worry that it would never happen.”

“Hmm?” Kassandra glanced up. “About?”

“What do you think _ about _,” Praxos suppressed a belch and refilled his mug and hers. “All this time, a fine young woman like that and you still catting about the place like a randy teenager. I was starting to think she was mistaken about you.”

“I haven’t been _ catting about _ anywhere, thank you very much,” she bristled. “Not that it’s any of your concern, frankly.”

“Isn’t it now?” he wiped his moustache with the back of a meaty fist. “I think you’ll find it’s very much my concern. I’ve cared for that girl since she was knee high to a goat and if I thought for a minute that…”

“Now, Praxos,” Nike leaned around Kassandra and placed a calming hand over his. “Let’s not fall into the trap of believing every scandalous rumour that comes our way.”

“Leaders rise and fall on scandalous rumours, Nike,” he frowned.

“She’s survived any number so far,” she said softly. “And if she’s managed to tame Kassandra of Sparta that’s a horse of quite a different colour. I assume she _ has _ tamed you?” she gave Kassandra a meaningful look.

“There was no taming involved,” she took a swig of ale. This stuff was all right really, she decided. It wasn’t wine but she could imagine that if you were thirsty it would hit the spot. “I’m not some wild animal, Praxos,” she scowled.

“To be quite honest Kassandra,” he leaned forward, “I don’t really care what you’ve done in the past. You can have fallen face first into half the women of the Aegean just like they say, but you need to remember that you have someone else’s reputation in your hands now. And a lot of people’s well being depends on her.”

“Perhaps we could have this conversation without resorting to vulgarity, Praxos,” Nike said quietly. “We’ve all done things in our youth that we wouldn’t do now, I’m sure, even you, no doubt. Better that Kassandra has got all that out of her system nice and early eh?”

“I’m just saying,” he drained his mug and quickly refilled it. “That Ky...that the woman in question doesn’t need to look like the latest notch on someone’s bedpost. And that’s leaving aside how it would break her heart...again!”

“I’m sure Kassandra has no intention of breaking her heart,” Nike gave her a serious look. “_ Do _ you?”

“Of course not!” she replied indignantly. “Despite what you seem to think, Praxos, that was never my intention in the first place. Things happened that...that neither of us intended. And I’m more sorry about them than you could ever imagine,” she drained her mug and slammed it down on the table.

“Of course, you are,” Nike soothed, glancing around to see if they’d attracted attention. Fortunately the tavern was crowded and rowdy enough by now that it seemed to have gone unnoticed.

“Sorry and a handful of drachmae will get you a cup of cheap wine,” he snapped. “If you could have been here to see her. To see what you did to her. There were nights when I swore that if you ever set foot on these Islands again I would break your neck and throw you to the wolves myself.”

“Really!” Kassandra blustered, throwing back her shoulders. “Is that a fact? Well I’m here now, let’s step outside and you can give it a try!”

“That’s enough, the pair of you,” Nike said firmly. “No one is breaking anyone’s neck. Get up Kassandra, let me get between you, move up Praxos.”

She settled herself between the two of them and refilled everyone’s mugs.

“Eat some biscuits,” she pushed the bowl towards Praxos. “And calm yourself. We are here to have a nice, quiet drink and reassure ourselves about Kassandra’s commitment to our...mutual friend.”

There was a long, sullen silence, broken only by the sound of Praxos crunching and Kassandra gulping down her ale.

“She didn’t like olives as a little one,” he said quietly at last, looking sadly at the half eaten biscuit between his fingers. “She used to wrinkle up her little nose. So I never insisted. Never pushed her. And then one day I just found her, picking them off the tree like a little monkey,” he sniffed. “Stuffing them in her mouth until she looked like a little chipmunk,” a fat tear rolled down his cheek. “Uncle Praxos, I like them now,” he sobbed, tears rolling into his beard.

“Oh gods, here we go,” Nike sighed under her breath.

“I love that girl like she was my own,” he gazed tearfully at Kassandra. “All I’ve ever wanted was for her to be safe and happy, and then _ you _ came swaggering in. She never even saw you coming,” he sobbed. “She didn’t know how to deal with you, you swept her off her feet, threw her life upside down and then fucked clean off. I could have killed you. And then just when she’d almost got over you, in you come again! And I could see it happening all over again and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it,” he hiccuped miserably.

“I know Praxos,” Kassandra slurred a little. “I _ do _ know, I really do,” she reached round Nike to take his hands, tears rolling down her own cheeks now. “I swear to you, I swear on my life, Praxos, I never wanted to hurt her, ever. I love her so much,” she sniffled.

“Oh, Hera preserve us,” Nike sighed and rolled her eyes. “It’s wine for you next time my girl,” she inched the mug away from her and replaced it with the dried squid. “There you go, eat something now.”

“I know you do, I know you do Kassandra,” he gazed at her with watery eyes. “I’m just so scared for her. You could hurt her so badly.”

“I know,” she nodded, tearfully patting his hand. “I know that Praxos, I do. But I swear I would never, ever hurt her on purpose. She could break_ my _ heart too you know. She could _ ruin _ me. And that scares me too,” she wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Nike sighed and fished in the folds of her chiton for a handkerchief.

“I know, I know,” he nodded, sniffing wetly. “But she’s my everything. I’ve been there with her through it all Kassandra, the best and the worst. I’ve bandaged her little knees and braided her hair and wiped her little nose…” he sobbed.

“Right well, why don’t both of you wipe your little noses,” Nike soothed, “you’ll have to share, I only have one handkerchief, I wasn’t anticipating this,” she waved her hand to attract the serving girl’s attention and mouthed “water, please."

“She was lucky to have you, Praxos,” Kassandra blew her nose loudly and then passed the cloth to Praxos who took it without question and blew so loudly that a couple of patrons turned to see what the noise was.

“I’ll kill you if you hurt her again like that,” he wiped his eyes with the cloth, a little unwisely Nike thought, as a jug of water and three cups were put on the table, and the serving girl beat a hasty retreat.

“I know,” Kassandra nodded, sniffing. “I’ll let you.”

“Well good, that’s settled then,” Nike said briskly, pouring water into two of the cups. “Drink this now, and then when you’ve drunk that one, pour each other another cup and drink that too, I’m going to get you something more substantial to eat.”

She got to her feet and managed to squirm between Kassandra and the table, leaving them wiping their eyes and obediently drinking the water.

“Evening Nike,” Mikis smirked as she approached the counter. “Looks like you’re having an interesting night,” he chuckled.

Nike cast a glance back over her shoulder. Kassandra had shuffled along the bench to sit next to Praxos and he had one beefy arm around her shoulders. They were pouring from the ale jug again, she noticed with a weary sigh.

“Let me have a couple of bowls of stew and some bread please, Mikis,” she shook her head. “I think this ale is a bit stronger than your last lot.”

“Seems like it,” he chuckled. “They’re not going to end up throwing these bowls at each other are they?” he smirked.

“I doubt it,” Nike laughed, “they’ll be swearing undying loyalty by the time I get back to the table.”

“Mmm, maybe from underneath it,” he laughed. “Go ahead, I’ll bring them over.”

“Don’t make me kill the little bunny, Uncle Praxos, please don’t,” he was sniveling into another mug of ale. “So I didn’t.”

“I made Phoibe kill the bunny,” Kassandra sniffed miserably. “She didn’t want to, but I made her...and then we ate it,” she sobbed.

“We had to eat turnips,” Praxos bawled. “I don’t even like turnips, but we were so hungry.”

“I don’t like turnips either,” Kassandra drained her beer just before Nike could snatch the mug from her hands.

“I hate turnips so much,” Praxos folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them.

“I know, I know,” Kassandra patted the top of his bald head.

“Merciful Hera,” Nike sighed, rolling her eyes as Mikis came over with a tray. “There’s no turnips in this are there?” she asked.

“Not many,” he put the bowls down on the table along with a half loaf. “They’ll have to pick around them. Good luck,” he patted her shoulder before retreating.

“Right now,” she pushed the bowls forward. “Come on, get some stew inside you, then you’ll feel better...or worse, I suppose,” she put a spoon into Praxos’ hand and offered one to Kassandra.

As they ate, more or less in silence, she eased the mugs out of reach and replaced them with cups of water.

“I don’t like turnips,” Praxos looked miserably into his bowl, poking at a suspicious lump of root vegetable.

“No, no one likes turnips, we’ve established that,” Nike sighed and poured herself a mug of ale. “Just leave them.”

Kassandra had either overstated her dislike or forgotten all about it Nike observed, because she was ploughing resolutely through her stew.

“I do love her, Praxos,” she said at last, through a mouthful of bread, spraying wet crumbs over his arm. “I really do. I’ve never loved a woman the way I love her, I swear, it scares me sometimes.”

“I know, I know,” he patted her arm. “We both love her,” he heard Nike clear her throat meaningfully. “We _ all _ love her,” he corrected quickly. “But I _ will _ break your legs if you hurt her, I promise you that.”

“I’ll break them myself,” Kassandra nodded solemnly as he pushed a bowl full of turnip chunks in her direction. Nike watched in amusement as she tucked in.

“You’re all right Kassandra,” Praxos reached out and slapped the side of her face fondly, if a little over enthusiastically. “I don’t care what anyone says, you’re all right.”

“So are you, Praxos,” she pushed aside the empty bowl and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re a good man. And so are you, Nike,” she gave her a lopsided smile.

“Well thank you for that,” she raised her mug before draining the last remnants. “Feeling better now?”

“Much,” she stifled a belch. “I can taste turnips,” she frowned. “Is there any more ale?”

Nike made a show of looking in the jug before clapping her hand over the top.

“No! Ale’s all gone!” she refilled Kassandra’s cup with water. “Drink that up and then we’ll see if we can get you home...Kyra’s going to kill me,” she sighed to herself.

“Kassandra,” Praxos picked up the cloth wrapped bundle and placed it in front of her with exaggerated care. “You should give her the biscuits,” he said solemnly. “I didn’t mean to steal your th-hic... your th-hic...your th-hic…”

“Thunder,” Nike interrupted. “He didn’t mean to steal your thunder. Except he did of course, but clearly he’s thought better of it now, so that’s progress.”

“No, no,” Kassandra pushed them back to him. “You got them for her, you should give them to her.”

“Nope, nope,” Praxos made to push them back, “I insist.”

“Why don’t you_ both _ give them to her?” Nike decided to intervene before there was nothing but crumbs to fight over. “Imagine how delighted she’ll be if you stagger in together and both give her a little gift. She’ll be charmed. Come on now, let’s see if we can get you on your feet, eh?”

It took a couple of attempts and Mikis had to come over and lend a hand but at last they had Kassandra and Praxos both on their feet, swaying a little.

“Why don’t you sort of...lean against one another a bit…” Nike suggested, easing Kassandra against Praxos’ arm . “There we go.”

With Nike on one side and Mikis on the other they managed to weave their way through the other customers towards the door.

“Do you reckon they’ll be able to get back safely?” Mikis craned his neck around them to look at Nike.

“I’ll kill the man who touches Kassandra!” Praxos announced to the tavern at large as he wrapped a meaty arm around her neck to pull her to his chest, before slapping her on the back of the head with alarming vigour.

“And so will I,” she agreed into his chest hair. “Let anyone try and lay a hand on you Praxos and I’ll tear off his arms and gift them to you.”

“What a lovely sentiment,” Nike nodded as they weaved to the door.

“It brought tears to _ my _ eyes,” Mikis agreed.

Outside in the fresh night air they stopped and Nike waited hopefully for them to get their balance.

“I feel a bit funny,” Kassandra frowned thoughtfully.

“Oh bugger, she’s not going to throw up is she?” Mikis took a huge step back.

“Of course not,” Praxos slapped her on the back. She swayed alarmingly but managed to keep her balance. “Kassandra’s stomach is as strong as the rest of her. This is a mighty warrior.”

Nike fully expected her to vomit at his feet as soon as he finished speaking, but she merely gave a loud belch and blinked slowly before leaning back against him.

“Nike!” Praxos beamed. “Thank you for a wonderful night. This is a fine, fine woman right here,” he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in.

“Oh please don’t,” she sighed, but it was too late.

“Good night to you, lovely one,” he beamed drunkenly as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Yes indeed,” Kassandra grabbed hold of her. “It’s been a very nice evening.”

“Good, but...no Kassa..” Nike’s protest was muffled by another messy kiss.

“And Mikis!” Praxos threw out his arms. “Your stew is wonderful, apart from the turn..hics..turn...hic..turn..”

“No, no that’s fine my friends,” he backed away with his hands up. “Your enjoyment is thanks enough.”

As they weaved off in the direction of the villa, Mikis came to stand by Nike’s shoulder and they watched them go.

“Do you reckon they’ll be all right?” he wondered.

“Well, put it like this,” Nike said thoughtfully. “If they _ do _ pass out by the side of the road, what damn fool is going to try and rob them?” 

As she said this Praxos tumbled off the side of the path into a patch of shrubbery.

“Do we have to go and….” Mikis began reluctantly.

“No, no, they’ll be fine, Kassandra’s a big strapping…” she watched as Kassandra reached over to give Praxos her arm before collapsing on top of him. “No ...they'll be...just give them a minute ...they'll be fine,” they watched the performance. “There you go!” she said relieved, as they struggled to their feet, and turned back to wave before wandering off. 

“Well I don't know about you Nike,” Mikis clapped his hands. “But I need a proper drink after that!”

Back at the villa Kyra had just taken the empty wine jug and cups into the kitchen and had poured herself a cup of water before retiring for the night when she heard voices in the yard. 

Opening the door she recognised Praxos and Kassandra singing a spectacularly filthy song about two young women from Lesbos. She rolled her eyes and went back inside, leaning back against the table to wait for them.

As they staggered into view she could hear Praxos shushing loudly.

“Quiet! We don’t want to wake Kyra,” he hissed.

“No!” Kassandra snorted. “No we do _ not _...oh!” she spotted her. “Hello my love,” she gave her a cock-eyed smile.

“What?” Praxos looked up and spotted Kyra just a moment later. “Oh...Kyra...you’re up?”

“Good evening,” she eyed them placidly. “Have you had a nice time?”

“We brought you a present,” Praxos grinned hopefully and offered the rather bedraggled looking bundle. “It’s from both of us,” he pushed it into her hands.

“A present eh?” Kyra arched an eyebrow. “How un….” she opened it and watched as a cascade of crumbs fell to the floor, “...expected.”

“You fell on them, Praxos,” Kassandra hissed, nudging him.

“They’re biscuits,” he looked down at the pile of crumbs. “Those little salty ones with the olives in that you like.”

“Delicious,” Kyra said dryly. “Well at least they seem to be the only thing damaged. I assume?” she frowned suddenly. “There was no trouble at the tavern?”

“Pphh!” Kassandra snorted. “No?! We had a nice time. I like beer now,” she grinned.

“I’m going to kill Nike the next time I see her,” Kyra rolled her eyes and dropped the empty cloth on the table.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort, young lady!” Praxos wagged a finger and swayed alarmingly. “Nike’s a paragon. She’s _ our _ hetaera now,” he wrapped an arm around Kassandra’s shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “Isn’t that right, Kassandra?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “She’s...what?” she frowned up at him.

“Well, I don’t want to know what events have given rise to that decision,” Kyra folded her arms. “But I’m pleased to see that you two seem to have buried any differences you might have had.”

“We’re friends now,” Kassandra’s grin was beatific, if a little skew whiff.

“I love this little misthios here,” Praxos crushed her to his chest. “I don’t care what anyone says,” he shook his head. “She’s all right. And I’ll knock the lights out of any man jack who says any different,” he ruffled her hair hard.

“I’m not sure your new best friend can breath,” Kyra nodded.

“Eh, oh, sorry, sorry,” he released Kassandra who smiled affably as he patted her cheek with a meaty hand.

“Gods preserve us,” Kyra rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily as she looked at the two of them. 

Praxos’ chest was covered in biscuit crumbs and she wasn’t sure what was in his beard. Kassandra’s braid and grin were both askew, and was that ..._ stew _ down the front of her tunic?

“Well, as I expected it’s very late,” she sighed. “Come on Kassandra, it’s time you were in bed.”

“Ho ho ho!” Praxos chuckled, thumping Kassandra in the arm as she passed.

“Heh heh heh,” she responded.

“And you can get _ that _ idea right out of your head!” Kyra drew back. “You’re lucky I’m not making you sleep in the yard.”

“Tell her she’s beautiful when she’s angry,” Praxos hissed.

“Bed!” Kyra shot him a glance. “And drink some water.”

“Hmm, right,” he picked up the water jug from the table, a little shame faced and made for the door. “Goodnight Kassandra. See you tomorrow.”

Kyra watched him go and shook her head.

“Well,” she turned back to Kassandra. “I was half afraid that you were going to come home with black eyes and broken noses, so I _ suppose _ this is better,” she made for the door.

“He’s right you know,” Kassandra murmured as she followed her down the corridor to the stairs.

“About what?” Kyra glanced back over her shoulder.

“You _ are _ beautiful when you’re angry,” she smiled sleepily.

“Oh Kassandra,” Kyra laughed. “Don’t even try that. It is _ not _ happening tonight.” She heard a scuffle behind her as Kassandra missed a step and scrabbled to her feet again.

“It could do,” Kassandra said carefully. “I admit that I may have had a tiny bit to drink, but don’t worry because that will not affect my performance at all.”

Kyra turned just in time to see her almost miss another step.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” she smiled. “And I wish you joy of yourself, because you will not be performing with me tonight, you smell like a tavern bar cloth for one thing.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kassandra deals with a hangover in an unconventional fashion, and a sub-plot approaches.

When Kassandra woke the following morning she became aware of a few things simultaneously. First of all, the sun was way too bright, it was making her eyes hurt. Secondly her head was pounding. And thirdly she was lying on the bedroom floor face down and naked with her head almost under the bed.

She was thirsty too, she realised, licking her lips. Squinting across the room she could see Kyra sitting at her dressing table. She was humming quietly to herself as she concentrated on lining her eyes. Kassandra’s first attempt at getting up off the floor resulted in her cracking her head on the underside of the bed. Her cursing made Kyra turn in her chair.

“Good morning, my handsome Misthios,” she smirked. “And how are you feeling?”

“Why am I on the floor?” Kassandra rolled onto her back, groaning as her head pounded in protest.

“Don’t you remember?” Kyra laughed and poured a cup of water. “You came home drunk as a wharf rat, you and Praxos declared yourself blood brothers or something, then you came upstairs, lost your balance twice while you were getting undressed, before standing there naked and asking me if I didn’t want to reconsider having the night of my life. Fortunately for me, my answer was no, because you passed out on the bed, slid down and…” she indicated Kassandra’s current position with an airy wave of her hand.

“At least you didn’t throw up,” she helped her struggle into a sitting position, leaning back against the bed and gave her the water. “Though there’s time yet, I suppose. Come in!” she called without thinking as there was a knock on the door. “No! Wait!”

“Good...ah,” Savina affected interest in the ceiling. “This is unfortunate, Archon.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Kyra sighed. “It was my fault this time, I do apologize, I…”

“Er, no, I mean it’s unfortunate because the man is here to measure Misthios Kassandra for her new armour,” she cast a brief glance at Kassandra, sprawled on the floor, gulping water and looking like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards.

“What? Oh shit! “ Kyra groaned. “Sorry Savina. I suppose that’s what we get for being so efficient,” she surveyed Kassandra and sighed. “I wonder if I could impose upon you to lend me a hand?” she gave Savina an apologetic look. “Just to get this great clumsy ox on her feet? Then if you could perhaps keep Ision busy with my suggestions?”

“Of course Archon,” Savina took a deep breath and came over to take hold of one of Kassandra’s arms. “Oops a daisy, Misthios,” she grunted a little as she and Kyra hauled together on the count of three.

“Oh gods’ teeth, my head,” Kassandra groaned, closing her eyes.

“Take a seat on the bed,” Kyra advised. “Savina go and delay him if you would?”

“Cymone has made lemon cake!” she suggested brightly as she made for the door.

“Perfect,” Kyra grinned. “Fill him full of lemon cake, I’ll just get Kassandra watered sufficiently to stand and then I’ll join you. Right Kassandra,” she handed her another cup of water. “Drink a couple more, have a quick wash, just the smelliest bits, then come straight down to my office. Just a tunic, he’ll want to size you up,” she kissed her quickly on the cheek and raced out after Savina, leaving Kassandra sitting on the bed nursing a headache and a cup of water.

When she eventually strode into the office, wincing slightly but trying hard to put a brave face on it, she found Kyra and a bald, clean shaven man, poring over a parchment on her desk. There was a plate nearby covered in cake crumbs.

“Well, I have to say Archon,” he nodded. “Some craftsmen are intimidated when a client comes to them with such strong opinions, but personally I find it invigorating when a commissioner has taken such a serious interest in the work. We’re sure about the tunics? Obviously I shalln’t be making those, but the colour?”

“I’m definite about the colour,” Kyra said firmly, looking up as Kassandra approached the desk. “Ah Misthios Kassandra, here you are. Please meet Ision, the craftsman who is going to make your official armour.”

“Mmm, here I am yes. Greetings,” she smiled shakily, wondering if there was any water nearby. Savina seemed to read her mind and appeared at her elbow with a cup. “Thank you,” she accepted it gratefully. “I apologise for my tardiness,” she began after draining it. “I was a little unwell this morning.”

Kyra could smell a wave of stale beer coming off her from the other side of the desk but Ision chose to ignore it as he advanced with his measuring tape and a tablet tucked into his belt.

“Not a problem Misthios,” he unwound the tape. “It gave me the opportunity to sample some very excellent cake, arms up please. I must say, it gives me great pleasure to make your acquaintance at last,” he wound the tape around her chest, gave the result some consideration and then scratched a few figures on the tablet. “I had noticed you around town, out and about on your business and wondered what it would be like to armour such an impressive specimen, no keep them up please.”

Kassandra looked over his head as he repeated the process around her hips and waist. She caught Kyra’s eye and grinned broadly, mouthing “impressive specimen” with a wink. Kyra rolled her eyes and looked back down to the parchment on the desk.

“Will it take long to complete?” she asked, avoiding Kassandra’s amused smirk.

“Hmm?” Ision asked absently, scratching on his tablet. “No, not as long as you might imagine Archon. Your Misthios is unusually tall as I’m sure you’re aware, but very well proportioned. I have a number of pieces that I have been working on which I am confident I can adapt to your requirements. You may lower your arms now, thank you.” 

Kassandra stood awkwardly as he circled around her, measuring the length of her torso, thighs, arms. Kyra watched with interest she noticed, but was careful to avoid Kassandra’s eyes.

“And the helmet,” Ision asked as he worked. “Am I to assume…”

“Oh, I don’t need a helmet,” Kassandra demurred. “I can always scrounge one up from the guard house if I really need one.”

“I don’t think…” Kyra began.

“If you would permit me, Archon,” he interrupted politely and seeing her nod he peered up at Kassandra sternly. “You absolutely will  _ not _ complete my work with some old pot that you’ve  _ scrounged up _ from the guard house! The very idea!”

“It’s just that I rarely,” Kassandra began to protest. This whole thing was beginning to seem a little odd she decided.

“The Archon requires that her bodyguard present an impressive and memorable impression when on duty,” Ision was faffing around her lower legs now, glancing up at her occasionally between measuring and scribbling. 

“And believe me, when  _ I  _ have outfitted you, not only will you be physically resilient beyond anything you imagined, but you will be,” he got to his feet with a grunt, “breathtaking!” he spread his hands dramatically. 

“And,” he went over to the desk, still talking over his shoulder as he began to transfer figures to a pad of small sheets of papyrus. “I believe you will be most impressed with the bracers I have in mind. They are secured with a fastening of my own devising, which makes them very easy to put on and remove by yourself,” he was packing away his tools now in a small leather satchel. 

“I doubt you will have seen anything like them. Well Archon,” he gave her a little bow. “I will pass on all the relevant measurements to the seamstress responsible for the tunics ...you're absolutely sure about the thigh slits?” he paused on his way to the door.

“Adamant,” Kyra nodded, still avoiding Kassandra’s eyes.

“Indeed,” he nodded. “Well I can see how that will contribute to the overall impression, certainly. Oh thank you, young lady, how kind,” he took a small wrapped parcel of cake from Savina as she led him to the door.

“What the hell was all that about?” Kassandra waved a hand in the direction of the door as Savina closed it after him.

“That was you being measured for your uniform armour,” Kyra explained. “Have you never been measured for a piece at all?”

“I think you know I haven’t,” she sat on the desk, frowning. “I’ve always just scrounged up likely pieces and had them altered to fit.”

“Well this time you don’t have to mess around lengthening and shortening straps and lashing bits together with strips of old leather,” Kyra smiled. 

“Look, I understand that you don’t want me to be standing beside you wearing a collection of mismatched pieces that I’ve looted off corpses,” Kassandra sighed. “But..”

Kyra held up a hand to quiet her and smiled over at Savina who was looking a bit green around the gills.

“I wonder, Savina, if you would be good enough to give Misthios Kassandra and I a few moments alone?”

“Of course,” she nodded, gratefully. “In fact I noticed one of the masons waiting in the hallway. I’ll go and find out what he needs.”

Kyra waited until the door was safely closed and then got to her feet and came round to stand before Kassandra who was looking a little pouty she decided.

“What is it, Kassandra?”

“It just feels a bit weird,” she scowled. “Some stranger comes in, measures bits of my body I barely knew existed and then flounces off without even asking me what sort of boots I want.”

“Ah,” Kyra nodded, lowering her head. “Yes, of course, I see. I’m sorry Kassandra, I didn’t think. Like you said, you’ve never really seemed all that concerned about the appearance of your armour, you’ve literally just tossed things away when you’ve found a better piece, I don't think I’ve ever seen you in the same set twice. In fairness I’ve never seen you in anything that you could really call a set.”

“Yes...well,” she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I usually sell them to be fair, I don’t throw them away. But I see your point. It would just have been nice to be consulted.”

“I see that now,” Kyra nodded. “I do. I was excited and I got carried away. And you didn’t raise any objections when I described it to you the other night?”

“Wait, what?” Kassandra cast her mind back. “When you were talking about the red chlamys, and the bronze…” she saw Kyra nod. “That was a description?”

“Mmm, would you like to see?” she took Kassandra’s hand and led her around the desk to sit in her chair, then pushed the sheet of parchment forward.

Kassandra studied it in silence for a few moments, before looking up frowning slightly.

“Did  _ you _ draw this?”

Kyra nodded and came to stand beside her.

“ _ When _ did you draw this?” Kassandra frowned. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Oh, I only drew it last night while you were out,” Kyra shrugged. “But I'd be lying if I said that I hadn’t... _ imagined _ it before now,” she blushed and avoided Kassandra’s softening look.

“Really?” she grinned and pulled Kyra down onto her lap. “This is really good...but my nose isn’t that big is it?”

“That’s part of the helmet, you fool,” Kyra slapped her shoulder. “Praxos taught me how to draw actually.”

“Praxos?” Kassandra looked up, astonished. “He’s full of surprises.”

“Mmm, “ Kyra put her arm around Kassandra’s shoulders. “While he was telling me about the constellations he used to draw pictures in the sand of what they represented. I don’t know if he’d want me to tell you though, he’s shy about it for some reason.”

“I see you paid a good deal of attention to my legs?” Kassandra grinned.

“I think you were already aware that I pay a good deal of attention to your legs,” Kyra blushed and laughed. “So...do you like it? Because I can send for Ision and we can alter it to something you prefer?”

“No, no, I do like it actually. I think I’ll look very dashing,” Kassandra shook her head and held up the parchment. “May I have this?” she glanced up looking a little sheepish.

“That? Yes of course if you want it?” 

“Yes, of course I want it,” Kassandra laughed. “I think you’re only the second person to ever draw a picture of me,” she said wistfully.

“Oh? And who was the first?” Kyra arched a teasing eyebrow.

“Phoibe,” she replied quietly. “Phoibe was the first.”

“Do you still have it?” Kyra brushed a stray strand of hair back from her brow. “I’d very much like to see it if you do.”

Kassandra nodded silently and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m paying for this though,” she whispered.

“The drawing?” Kyra frowned.

“No, you fool,” Kassandra laughed. “The armour! The drawing’s a gift,” she gave her a squeeze. “Though I could pay you in kind if you like?” she gave her teasing smirk.

A light knock at the door reminded them that Savina was still waiting outside with the mason.

Kassandra had fully intended to go and wash properly once the measuring had been completed but as Savina settled the elderly mason in a chair before Kyra’s desk she heard him say that he was here with news about the damaged silos.

She’d only been aware of one when she’d offered her services to help with repairs, but it sounded as though more extensive work was required.

“May I stay and listen to this?” she stopped at the door and turned back.

Kyra looked up, clearly a little surprised and directed her to a chair by the terrace, with a pleased smile.

“Well Archon,” the old man turned the brim of his straw hat between his fingers as he spoke. “There’s good news and bad news.”

“When isn’t there?” Kyra sighed. “Let’s hear the bad news first then.”

It turned out that three silos had been damaged by fire, all on the same night and a significant amount of grain had been lost. Kassandra leaned forward, elbows on knees and listened intently.

“At first glance I told you all three were repairable?” he shook his head apologetically. “But this morning the lads and I went into the first two, and no. They’re structurally damaged I’m afraid. Dangerously so. I’ve had the lads rope them off to keep folks away till we can make them safe. The grain inside is ruined, but people aren’t to know that.”

“Thank you for your efforts,” Kyra said wearily. “Would it help if I sent along a couple of guards to keep people away?” At his grateful agreement she nodded in Savina’s direction. “I’ll speak with Hippolytus directly after we finish here and arrange that.”

“So what’s the good news?” Kassandra asked.

The mason turned to look at her and glanced back to Kyra.

“You haven’t met, please forgive me, this is Kassandra, my personal Misthios. She’s been good enough to offer the services of her ship’s crew to help in the repair efforts.”

“Very good of you Misthios, thank you, I’m sure,” he bobbed his head. “Well there’s more good news than you might think, Archon. For reasons I’m not clear on...farming stuff,” he waved his hands. “ A portion of the grain had been moved to the third silo, so you haven’t lost quite as much as it seemed initially. And most of the stone is salvageable. It’ll need refacing obviously, which is time consuming, but the new stone would have required that as well. So you’ve actually saved a bit of time and money there,” he gave her an optimistic smile.

“And the third silo, the one that looked the worst?” she leaned forward on her desk, fingers interlaced.

“Not bad at all,” he shook his head. “The roof and the top few rows are ruined but the rest of the damage is largely cosmetic, a fresh coat of lime wash and it’ll be better than new. There’s some spoilage to the top layer of grain, but the rest is fine they tell me. They’re working on clearing it out as we speak, Archon.”

“And where are they going to keep it in the meantime?” Kyra leaned back in her chair, frowning thoughtfully.

“Ah yes,” he sighed. “That is a bit of a fiddly one. They tell me there’s enough spare capacity in some neighboring silos but it will need a few carts and some arranging by someone who’s got a better head than me for such things.”

“Right!” Kyra said, taking a deep breath. “That sounds like a job for Aegeus,” she looked over to Savina. “Would you go and explain things to him? Tell him to be ready to leave as soon as we’re done here, and ask Hippolytus to come and see me, please.”

“How can we help?” Kassandra got to her feet, headache largely forgotten at the prospect of some physical labour.

“Ah, Misthios, right,” he got to his feet. “Well, stone facing is a craftsman’s job, but I’m sure a crew of strong sailors who are used to hauling sails and sorting out rigging will be able to help us dismantle the ruined silos easily enough. Bless you for your help.”

“Right, that’s done then!” Kassandra grinned, clapping her hands. “If its all right with you,” she looked over to Kyra who was smiling approvingly. “I’ll go and get changed and then go down to the Adrestia and get them motivated for some demolition work.”

Later that afternoon the site was a hive of activity. The crew, while initially surprised, were glad to have some hard labour to take their minds off the last dismal voyage. Kassandra and Barnabas were standing together, hands on hips watching Gelon, Odessa and Basileos perched atop the damaged silo. Two of them looked much more comfortable than the third.

“Aye, it’s totally fucked!” Gelon yelled down.

“Do you mind!” Barnabas glanced around at the gaggle of curious onlookers. “There are children present.”

“Well tell them to fucking move then!” she bellowed. “This is no place for bloody kids to be running around, it’s dangerous.”

“I swear, every other word out of that woman’s mouth,” Barnabas pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

Odessa was sliding smoothly down one of the ropes they’d rigged to the top of the silo. She sauntered over, face smudged with dust and soot.

“She’s right,” she spat out a wad of black phlegm. “It’s totally fucked.”

“Oy, oy!” Barnabas jerked his thumb back in the direction of a grubby little boy who was enthusiastically picking his nose and watching them intently. Odessa gave him a disapproving look.

“I do beg your pardon, young man,” she bowed, then turned to Barnabas. “On closer inspection we discovered that the roof is damaged beyond all hope of repair and that the only option is to totally dismantle it and rebuild it from scratch.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Barnabas smiled approvingly.

“So, it’s definitely fucked?” Kassandra grinned cheekily, folding her arms.

Barnabas gave a scandalized gasp and put his hands over the young boy’s ears. Whatever he felt made him decide to remove them pretty quickly and wipe them on his chiton.

There was a loud warning bellow from above and before anyone had the chance to react, a huge, charred beam tumbled down, landing with a ground shaking thud a few feet from them.

“Basileos!” Odessa yelled indignantly. “Watch what you’re doing for fuck’s sake! You could have killed us, you clumsy bastard!”

Barnabas heaved a weary sigh.

“Can you not be quite so sweary, please, love?” Thyia strolled up, brushing dirt from her tunic. “There are children present,” she cast a wary eye over the young lad. “And get your finger out of there,” she clipped him about the ear, “you’ll be messing up your hair if you dig much further.”

“Well it’s no place for them,” Odessa pointed out reasonably. “And we need to get Basileos down as soon as possible,” she looked at Kassandra. “He’s not comfortable up there and he’s too damn big, he’s going to go through it in a minute. And so would you,” she poked her in the chest. “So don’t get any ideas.”

Barnabas rummaged in his pocket and fished out a couple of coins.

“There you go, little man,” he held them out. “Go and get yourself something nice to eat in town, or something, run along now.”

The boy took them in a grubby hand and trotted off without a word as Barnabas wiped his hand on his chiton. As they watched, four women approached carrying trays of food and water for the workers.

“Come on down,” Kassandra yelled up at the ruined roof. “Take a break. And be careful Basileos!”

Odessa went to sit on the charred beam, lifting the skirt of her tunic to wipe her face.

“Ooh, it’s still warm,” she wriggled her ass against the wood and grinned.

“Cover yourself up for goodness sake,” Thyia gave her hand a slap in passing before sitting down next to her. 

There was a sound of creaking and grumbling and Basileos reached the ground, he took a moment to steady himself, looking infinitely relieved and went to sit on the beam.

“Shuffle up, my love,” Thyia nudged Odessa, “make a bit of room.”

As Odessa inched along the beam she gave a yelp of pain and jumped up.

“The fuck was that?!” she had a hand clamped to the back of her thigh and blood was beginning to trickle through her fingers.

“Let’s see,” Kassandra bent and eased her hand away. There was a clean, straight cut about three inches long at the very top of her thigh and blood was running slowly but steadily down the back of her leg. “You’re going to need some stitches in that,” she got to her feet and went to examine the beam as Thyia stood, checked the wound and then cradled Odessa’s face in her hands, pressing their foreheads together.

“Good job Theis came with us,” she kissed her softly. “Come, let’s go and find her.”

“A nail or something?” Barnabas came over to watch as Kassandra took her dagger and pried a piece of sooty metal from the wood. She wiped it on her tunic and held it up.

“An arrowhead?” Gelon had come to join them. “What’s a fucking arrowhead doing in there, for fucks sake?”

“Someone was using the tree for target practice I imagine,” Basileos drained a mug of water and gave a grateful gasp. “Too lazy to pick the damn things out afterwards.”

“Hey Odessa!” Kassandra called and waited for her to turn back. “Catch!” she tossed the arrowhead to her. 

“Only you could get an arrow wound in your ass while you were sitting down,” Thyia sighed, taking her arm and leading her off in search of the healer.

Kassandra examined the rest of the beam carefully before she and Barnabas sat down to take a drink and have something to eat.

“I don’t know much about such things,” he said around a mouthful of flatbread and cold meat. “Farms and silos and things, but is it not odd that three caught fire all on the same night?”

“Well,” Kassandra wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and reached for some cheese. “They can go up in an instant if there’s a spark and there’s dust from the grain swirling around inside, and if one goes up, then its neighbours can too.”

“This one isn’t a neighbour though is it?” he peered around her, off across the fields to where the rest of the crew were helping to dismantle the two ruined silos.

“It’s a long way for a spark to fly,” Basileos agreed, following Barnabas’ pointing finger. “They must have done something to enrage Demeter eh?”

“Very possibly, very possibly,” Barnabas nodded solemnly. “Perhaps we should make a little offering by way of appeasement.” 

Kassandra watched, shaking her head fondly, as he trotted off in search of a little wine and fruit, to placate the angry goddess.

As she watched him leave she saw a familiar figure advancing across the field towards them, stepping mincingly over rough tussocks of grass and around piles of goat shit, holding up his skirts all the while.

“Aegeus, what on earth are you doing out here?” she went to greet him.

“Greetings Misthios,” he eyed his sandals with distaste, surreptitiously wiping one on a clump of grass. “I am here to organise the transfer of the salvaged grain. And of course to witness the damage for myself,” he held the corner of his cloak to his nose. “What a misfortune for the farmers,” he looked up at the charred roof and discoloured stone. “But such a blessing that no one was injured, or indeed worse. Artemis be praised.”

“Mmm, if you say so,” she nodded, not sure what the virgin huntress had to do with grain storage. “You’re not hoping to carry the grain in your pockets, are you?” she gazed about theatrically.

“No, indeed not,” he frowned, “ Ah...Yes, most droll Misthios. What engaging company you must provide for our beloved Archon. And may I say?” he smirked conspiratorially as he leaned towards her. “Welcome to the team. We are compact but efficient and I can only imagine that your skills, many and various as I am assured they are, will be a most welcome addition to our numbers.”

Before Kassandra could think of an appropriate response a loud bellow from the foot of the silo interrupted them.

“When are the bloody carts supposed to be getting here, for fuck’s sake, Kassandra?” Gelon trotted over, wiping her sweaty face with her sooty hand and leaving a dark trail in its wake. “It’s only going to take a few clouds to blow over, piss on that lot like a cow on a flat rock, and the whole lot’s going to be buggered. And that poor bitch of a farmer is going to be on the bones of her arse.

“Aegeus,” Kassandra took his arm and urged him forward. “May I introduce you to one of my most valued lieutenants, Gelon. She’s clearly as heavily invested in the safe transport of this grain as you yourself. You’ll help Aegeus here organise this, won’t you Gelon?”

“Glad to, friend,” she slapped him soundly on the arm, leaving a sooty handprint on his cloak. “But are we carrying it in fucking buckets, or what?” she waited with an expectant expression.

Aegeus hadn’t closed his mouth since Gelon first opened hers.

“Carts, Aegeus?” Kassandra raised her eyebrows, smirking a little. “Are we getting any? And if so, when?”

“I...er...carts, yes, of course,” he recovered himself. “There are two on their way. They should be here at any minute I imagine Mistress...Gelon, was it?”

“It was and it is,” she laughed. “And I’ll be glad to see them, friend. This woman seems like a nice sort, I feel sorry for her.”

“Well I’m sure that with hard work and efficient planning we shall be able to minimize any further losses, Mistress Gelon.”

“Good, good, and you can just call me Gelon you know, let’s not stand on ceremony, eh, if we’re working together,” she squinted past him down the dusty road. “These must be yours, eh? About fucking time. Let’s go and meet them,” she patted his arm, leaving a slightly fainter handprint. “They can give us a ride.”

“I…” Aegeus shot a panicky glance at Kassandra, but she merely waved an airy hand in the direction of the approaching carts. “I...well, yes. Off we go then, Mistress Gel...Miss Gelon.”

They’d gone no more than twenty steps when Kassandra called him back.

“What the fuck  _ now _ , Kassandra?” Gelon threw her arms wide. “I need him. He’s going to be the brains to my fucking brawn!”

“Well struggle on without him for a few more minutes,” she waved her off and, taking hold of Aegeus’ elbow led him away from the resting workers.

“Misthios?” he whispered, curiously.

“Aegeus, I don’t know much about farming and grain storage, beyond the basics. I know silos can catch fire, but is it not odd to have three go up in one night, like this?”

“Oh!” he nodded, enlightened. “Yes, I can see how it might seem so, but actually these structures can be quite volatile under the right conditions. Or, I suppose I should say, the  _ wrong _ conditions,” he smirked primly. Receiving no response he continued. “And a lightning strike certainly fits the bill.”

“There was a storm that night?” Kassandra braced her hands on her hips and looked over at the two ruined silos. The three buildings were certainly the tallest in the area.

“Indeed. It did cross my mind on my way over here that it might have been the self same storm that wreaked such havoc on the unfortunate vessel.”

They stood in silence for a moment, surveying the scene.

“I know what you’re thinking, Misthios,” he leaned in and whispered.

“You do?”

“Chicanery!” he hissed.

“No...no, I don’t think I was,” she shook her head.

“It didn’t cross your mind that the farmers in question may have been tempted to spoil some or all of their grain in order to receive compensation from our beloved Archon’s hardship fund?”

“I didn’t know that there  _ was _ a hardship fund,” she confessed. “But if I had done, then yes, I might have been thinking that.”

“So did I at first, great minds think alike,” he tapped his forehead. “But after a little investigation it transpires that they would only receive a very basic amount. Enough to keep them from destitution but barely a fraction of what their grain would fetch. They will be quite significantly out of pocket, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t know then,” Kassandra rubbed the back of her head. “Couldn’t they have wanted to...I don’t know how this works, but maybe they wanted to spoil the grain to mess with the market price or something?”

Aegeus took an involuntary step backwards and looked at her with a cocktail of surprise and respect.

“Your speculation, while expressed in a rather unsophisticated fashion, is sound, Misthios,” he nodded. “And once again, the idea did occur to me, whilst I was in bed with Sara last night.”

“Sara?!” Kassandra’s eyebrows went on a journey, as she tried to process this unexpected revelation.

“Indeed, my beloved Sara, queen of my heart,” he beamed. “I was discussing current events with her, as is my wont of an evening and the very same idea came into my head.”

Kassandra had of course been half under a bed last night and the idea had only just occurred to her as she stood with the smell of charred wood and scorched grain tickling her nostrils. In fact she’d half expected Aegeus, not to laugh at her, but to dismiss the theory out of hand.

“On a larger scale,” he was explaining, ”it could definitely work. But even though this looks like a substantial quantity of grain, it is just a fraction of the overall production of the Islands. And these are very small scale operations. They don’t have the backing to benefit greatly from shifts in market price. It’s certainly inconvenient though, and we shall have to import a certain amount to make up the shortfall before the next harvest. But never fear Misthios, our beloved Archon knows how to drive a hard bargain. And if you’ll permit me to say so, I am something of a  _ misthios _ at the negotiating table myself,” he chuckled quietly. “Be at ease, our Archon has everything well in hand.”

“Aegeus,” Gelon’s voice scythed across the field. “Get a bloody move on, man. The fucking grain will be sprouting before we get there at this rate!”

He glanced anxiously over to where Gelon was leaning over the side of a cart, waving frantically at him.

“Don’t look so worried Aegeus,” Kassandra patted his shoulder. “I think she’s taken a shine to you actually.”

“Really?” he gave her a cautiously hopeful look. “Well, time and tide, I suppose,” he hitched up his skirts and set off. “As I say Misthios,” he called over his shoulder. “No human cunning involved this time, merely Zeus’ displeasure.”

“Zeus!” Barnabas exclaimed coming up behind her, a little out of breath after climbing the slope. “You mean  _ he _ was behind all this? I’ve just offered to Demeter!” he sighed, turning on his heel and setting off back down the slope in search of a second tribute.

  
  


Evening meals at the villa tended to be relaxed, informal affairs as Kyra and Praxos were generally the only occupants after sundown. The cook left food that could be eaten cold or kept warm over a flame and she’d merely significantly increased the quantity on learning that Kassandra was taking up permanent residence.

This evening Praxos had eaten and then gone out for a stroll with Orion before retiring to bed. Kassandra and Kyra were sitting together on one of the couches in the living room. Kassandra with her feet up on the table and Kyra reclining in her lap, eating a sliced peach and occasionally feeding a little to Kassandra as she related her conversation with Aegeus.

“He’s quite right. I looked into it myself,” Kyra licked a trickle of juice from her thumb. “It would be a poor time to try and work the market like that right now, anyway. There’s a surplus on Delos, which I hope to take advantage of actually. I have a Delian delegate coming to see me to arrange a deal.”

Receiving no response, she tilted her head back a bit to look at Kassandra. She looked puzzled and vaguely disapproving.

“What’s the matter?” Kyra offered her another slice of peach.

“Oh, nothing really,” she chewed thoughtfully. “It’s just...politics. Sometimes it doesn’t seem all that different from Markos’ shystering, just on a bigger scale.”

Kyra laughed and shook her head.

“I understand, you prefer things to be all out in the open and preferably hittable. But there’s a lot of unavoidable washing of hands and scratching of backs involved,” she laughed again at Kassandra’s playful grimace of disgust, before assuming a more serious tone. “I swear though Kassandra, none of this is in any way for my personal gain.”

“No, no,” she stroked Kyra’s hair slowly. “I know that. I’m sorry I mentioned Markos, gods know you are absolutely  _ nothing _ like Markos!”

“Actually,” Kyra ventured. “I have a bit of a deal for  _ you _ ,” she held up a dripping slice of pinkish fruit and smiled as Kassandra took it from her fingers with a good deal more tongue action than was necessary.

“Indeed?” she growled. “Tell me more, Archon.”

“I was thinking. You and your crew get those repairs done, whilst  _ my _ crew and I work on securing the grain...and when it’s all sorted we can take that trip to Kephallonia?” she smiled as Kassandra bent and kissed her, beaming with delight. “Then I can meet the notorious Markos for myself.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone's a critic.

All the way through the process of dismantling and rebuilding the silos Kassandra had been expecting something to go wrong. For the weather to interfere, or the crew’s lack of experience in such jobs to slow things down or cause some accident. Despite her anxiety however, things went entirely according to plan. On the day of completion Kyra arranged for one of the priestesses from the Temple of Artemis to come and perform a blessing over the new buildings, much to Barnabas’ relief.

“They’ll be safe as houses now,” he came and perched next to Kassandra, who was sitting on a wall, swinging her feet and watching the proceedings with bemusement.

“I don’t know Barnabas,” she laughed. “Shouldn’t they be asking Demeter to bless the bloody things?”

“In an ideal world yes, I suppose so,” he scratched his beard absently. “But there’s no temple to her on Mykonos, so the Virgin Huntress has to be flexible. Perhaps she’ll put in a good word with her. She’s a goddess, she’ll manage.”

“I guess so, when you put it that way,” she patted him on the shoulder. “Everyone did a good job, Barnabas. I’m proud of them. And Kyra has managed to secure the grain, no one will go without bread. We all did well.”

“You should go and tell them that,” he said quietly, his good eye sparkling with pleasure. “When the priestess has finished, of course,” he added quickly.   
  


“Good work, my friends,” she exclaimed later, standing feet spread and hands on hips as the crew gathered around. “We’ve done a good thing here. The farmers can start to get back on their feet and the Islanders won’t go hungry or have to pay through the nose for their bread. To celebrate, all of you meet me at Mikis’ at sundown, the drinks are on me...no hydromeli!” she added hastily.

When the approving cheers died down, Basileos cleared his throat.

“Is there any chance of us taking to the waves again any time soon Commander?” he rubbed the back of his neck and looked a little hesitant. “It’s not that this hasn’t been interesting work, and it’s been good to get to know some of the locals, but...we’re mariners, not construction workers.”

There was a murmur of general agreement and some nodding.

“I hear you,” Kassandra had discussed this with Barnabas once she’d made her decision to settle and whilst  _ he _ was happy wherever Kassandra was, there was always the chance that the crew wouldn’t share his enthusiasm.

“You all know that I have decided to...base myself here, “ she settled. 

There was a snort from off to the side, that definitely sounded as though it had come from Odessa, immediately followed by sharp shushing from Thyia. Kassandra chose to ignore it.

“And after discussion with the Archon and your Captain,” she put an arm around Barnabas’ shoulders. “We’ve decided that the Adrestia will assume the role of a support vessel for the fleet of the Silver Islands, providing protection and extra capacity on occasion, patrolling the coasts regularly.”

She folded her arms and stood waiting for the quiet muttering to die down.

I understand if some of you decide that’s not what you want. We’ll be sorry to see any of you leave, but if you choose to, you’ll go with your full pay, our blessings and if you change your mind, there’ll always be a place on the Adrestia for you.”

“Well, I don’t know about the others,” Thyia spoke up. “But to be honest, I quite like the idea of having somewhere permanent to berth, especially somewhere with a public bath house.”

Odessa had been watching her with interest and chimed in now.

“While I’m not over excited about becoming the Archon’s ferry service, the idea of being able to sleep in a real bed now and again is tempting, and the prospect of  _ this _ one in the bath house,” she slipped an arm around Thyia’s hips. “That’s pretty much convinced me.”

“We’ll be no one’s ferry service!” Barnabas retorted indignantly. “The Archon will not command us directly. Kassandra is still our Commander. Of course, she will be liaising closely with the Archon..”

“I  _ bet _ she will,” Odessa smirked. There was a ripple of amusement which Barnabas cut off with a clap of his hands.

“Show a little respect! We will be here to help the Islanders, on the waves just as we’ve done here on land. Kassandra made quite sure that if the occasional little independent, well-paying job should come our way we’ll be free to arrange that. And as for what Kassandra said about any of you leaving. I would be sorry to lose you too. But if you feel that you can’t work under these arrangements, well then it’s better for everyone that you seek another vessel.”

There were a few moments of quiet discussion, crew members bowing their heads together, some nodding and gesturing. Kassandra cast a wary side glance down at Barnabas. He was trying to look confident but she could see a little twitch at the corner of his mouth that betrayed his nerves.

“Listen!” Gelon silenced them all. “I don’t know shit about politics. Or building fucking silos until a couple of weeks ago. When I signed on here I thought you were the sorriest looking, ragtag bunch of bastards I’d ever seen gathered together in one place. I was sure the fucking ship would hit rocks and sink before the month was out. But you know what? This is  _ my _ fucking ship now, and I stay wherever she stays. And I don’t know about the rest of you, but  _ these _ two unlikely buggers?” she waved a hand at Kassandra and Barnabas. “I’d sail this fucking ship up Cerberus’ arsehole if they asked me to. And _ I  _ like having a proper bath as well,” she nodded at Thyia.

There were a few moments of quiet consideration before a cheer went up, the crew pumping their fists in the air. Cries of “Commander” and “Our Captain” rang out, along with one or two confusing exclamations of “Cerberus’ arsehole!” from the back of the group. 

Kassandra allowed it to continue for a minute before she raised her hands to silence them.

“And if it’s any reassurance, we’ll be setting out to sea quite soon. I’ve decided to pay a visit to Kephallonia.”

“To see Phoibe?” Odessa grinned.

“Of course to see Phoibe,” Kassandra laughed, delighted by the excited cheer that went up in response to the girl’s name.

“And Clio?” Basileos asked, hopefully.

She gave him a wary look.

“Of course, I assume,” she conceded awkwardly. “Anyway,” she shook her head to dispel that particular image. “Go get yourselves cleaned up, rest a bit. And Barnabas and I will see you at the tavern this evening!”   
  


As she dressed in a clean tunic and sandals, later that night, Kassandra watched Kyra undress and pull on a more comfortable robe in preparation for a quiet evening alone with Orion. She had been telling her about the final completion of the grain deal.

“And what did this, whatshisname? Alector? What did he want in exchange?” she got to her feet and went to stand behind Kyra, stooping to wrap her arms around her waist and rest her chin on her shoulder.

“Well,” Kyra leaned back in her embrace. “Initially he wanted what he’s wanted for quite a while, to have a private mercenary company to protect his estates. But I told him in no uncertain terms that he’s not getting  _ that _ . He didn’t have much leverage, there was less grain lost than he seemed to have imagined. But even if we’d lost all of it, there’s no way I’m permitting individuals, however wealthy and influential, to assemble what amounts to a private army. It would set a terrible precedent for one thing. Speaking of mercenaries,” she smirked. “He was sorry to miss you again. He’s been very eager to make your acquaintance.”

“Ooh,” Kassandra grinned. “Perhaps he wants to hire me for his private mercenary company?” she teased.

“Well he can get  _ that _ idea right out of his head too,” Kyra turned in her arms. “You’re  _ my _ private mercenary now,” she ran her fingers along the angle of Kassandra’s jaw.

“But I could be your woman on the inside!” she grinned.

“You _ are _ my woman on the inside, most nights,” Kyra purred seductively, catching her hands and urging them down to her ass.

“Why, Archon!” Kassandra gave a playfully scandalized gasp. “The very idea!”

Kyra smiled, stretching up on her toes and kissing her lingeringly.

“Anyway,” she murmured, “I managed to beat him down.”

“Lucky Alector,” Kassandra growled, gripping her ass hard and pulling her close.

“I’m not sure  _ he _ thought so,” Kyra chuckled. “But he was biddable enough in the end. I gave him preferential docking rates for his vessels and he seemed happy enough.”

“Oh! So do  _ I _ get preferential docking rates for  _ my _ vessel?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Absolutely not!” Kyra grinned. “That would reek of partiality. Though there are other special privileges I could grant,” she kissed her throat. “So long as they remained strictly between the two of us.”

“I’m listening, Archon,” Kassandra pressed her face to the crook of her neck and breathed in her scent.

“I would be more than happy to go into explicit detail with you later tonight,” Kyra whispered huskily. “When you return from your important leadership duties at the tavern.”

“Urgh!” Kassandra dropped her head to Kyra’s shoulder. “I’d forgotten about that for a moment. Why don’t you come with me?” she suggested as Kyra eased out of her embrace and went to close the doors to the balcony.

“As the Misthios’ mistress?” Kyra turned to look at her, laughing and shaking her head.

“Perhaps not in that capacity,” she conceded. “But as the Archon, congratulating my crew on a job well done?”

“A nice idea, but no,” Kyra said firmly. “I will get Savina to record in the minutes how very appreciative the Islands are for your crew’s help. How about that? I’m sorry. Once upon a time it would have been not only appropriate, but fun. The Archon however, cannot spend an evening in a tavern full of rowdy sailors whilst they empty Mikis’ cellar and fill the hetaerae’s pockets.”

“See, that’s another reason I don’t like politics,” Kassandra sat on the bed to watch as Kyra undid the braids in her hair and began to brush it out. “It’s no fun.”

“It can be, if you approach it the right way.”

“By the way,” Kassandra frowned as something long forgotten occurred to her. “Why didn’t you tell me that Aegeus has a lover?”

“Eh!” Kyra stopped mid stroke. “Because I didn’t know! Who?”

“No idea,” Kassandra shrugged. “He just mentioned her in passing one time...I can’t remember her name now. Something short, starts with an s.”

“Ohh” Kyra nodded. “Sara,” she paused for a long moment. “I’d quite forgotten,” she said at last. “He keeps that very much to himself. I’m astonished he mentioned her to you.”

“I think Gelon had knocked him off his stride, if I remember correctly,” she watched a moth fluttering dangerously close to a lamp. “What’s she like?”

“Sara?” Kyra turned to face her and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well! Younger than Aegeus, lovely chestnut hair, brown eyes, very friendly personality. Quite athletic and muscular as well,” she raised her eyebrows.

“Really!” Kassandra was astonished. “Aegeus, you sly dog. Actually it sounds like  _ I’d _ be his type from what you say.”

“I’d kill him if he even thought about it,” Kyra said crisply. “He’s a valuable assistant, but he’s not  _ that _ valuable!”

“Well it just goes to show that you never can tell,” Kassandra got to her feet, shaking her head in amazement. 

“Do NOT tease him about it!” Kyra warned. “I’m serious Kassandra. Let him have his relationship in peace.”

“Absolutely!” she held up her hands. “I’m delighted to know that he is capable of normal human interaction. Well then,” she slapped her hands on her thighs.

“Don’t say that you won’t be late,” Kyra came over and wound her arms about her shoulders, pulling her down to kiss her. “I know that you think you won’t, but you will. And try not to end up drunk in a ditch with Praxos. I’d much prefer you to end the evening in my less brotherly embrace,” she nipped her ear gently.

“So would I,” Kassandra smirked, reluctantly slipping out of her arms and making for the door. “By the way. Is there any chance you could meet with Barnabas tomorrow? To start making plans for the trip to Kephallonia.”

Kyra gave it a few moments consideration. “Ask him to come for supper,” she decided. “We can sort out the details. Have fun, my love. And don’t get into any trouble.”   
  


When Kassandra reached the tavern it was clear from the noise level and the vulgarity of the songs, that the crew had a head start on her. A loud cry of “Commander!” went up as she entered.

“There you are,” Odessa raised her cup in greeting. She and Thyia were flanking a pretty young hetaera. “We thought you must be _ liaising closely _ with the Archon.”

“That will do,” Barnabas came over, already weaving slightly. “Good evening Kassandra, you have to try that chicken thing they have, it’s delicious! And look who’s here!” he exclaimed delightedly as Nike joined them.

“Good evening Misthios Kassandra,” she smiled knowingly. “Your crew were beginning to suspect that you had been delayed by your duties to our lovely Archon.”

“So I hear,” Kassandra glanced around the room. “I managed to pry myself away at last.”

“Admirable restraint on both your parts,” Nike nodded solemnly. “Would you care to join Praxos and me for a drink?” she led her over to the empty alcove.

“How is this bench still free when the place is heaving?” she took a seat.

“Because these are our seats,” Nike poured her a cup of wine. “No beer for you tonight. Archon’s orders apparently. As I was saying, Praxos and I sit here.”

“You weren’t sitting here just then,” she observed, taking a sip.

“Even when we’re not sitting here, we’re sitting here,” Nike arched an eyebrow.

“Where  _ is _ Praxos by the way?” Kassandra looked around.

“Outside, communing with nature. He’s already had...oh, here he is.”

“Kassandra!” he strode over and crushed her to his chest in a vast hug. “Here at last. Good to see you,” he squeezed in close beside her.

As they chatted Kassandra spotted one of her rowers approaching the table, eyes locked on Nike, an optimistic grin on his face.

“Good evening, lovely lady,” he began.

“No, I don’t think so,” Kassandra raised a hand. “Turn right round and go and try your luck somewhere else.”

He turned smoothly on his heel and headed off into the crowd.

“You really don’t need to protect my honour,” Nike laughed.

“Are you working tonight?” Praxos asked, pouring himself a mug of ale.

“No, not unless an irresistible offer comes up,” she laughed and arched an eyebrow as Odessa sauntered up to the table.

“ _ You _ can turn right round as well,” Kassandra gave her a look.

“I’d never considered you to be a selfish person, Commander,” she pouted playfully but backed off at the sight of Kassandra’s wagging finger.

“You certainly keep these boys and girls on a short rein,” Nike laughed. “A woman could go out of business!”

“Yes, well, some of them require a firm hand,” Kassandra examined the plates and bowls on the table and settled on the olives.

“Oh. I’m not averse to a firm hand myself, on occasion,” Nike smirked, nibbling on a biscuit and watching with amusement as a deep blush spread across Kassandra’s cheeks. “And speaking of discipline,” she brushed crumbs from her fingers. “It may interest you both to learn that our occasional social gatherings have not gone unnoticed by some of the locals.”

“Idle speculation,” Praxos took a handful of olives and began to pop them in his mouth.

“Far from idle,” Nike smirked. “Quite lively actually. No one is imagining Praxos having the whip hand, by the way,” she leaned over to Kassandra and lowered her voice as he coughed and a chewed half of an olive shot onto the table.

“Outrageous slander!” he spluttered, wiping his beard with the back of his hand. 

“Oh I don’t know,” Nike examined her fingernails with a quiet smile. “Who do _ you _ imagine taking the upper hand?”

“It’s...it’s not that,” he blushed, flustered. “It’s the...whole idea. It’s outrageous! What would Ky...what would she think?”

“Well I certainly don’t think for one moment that she’d be imagining I was taking either of you  _ in hand. _ And look at it this way Praxos, so long as they’re talking about us, they’re not talking about  _ you know who _ and her mysterious origins.”

“It’s damned disrespectful is what it is,” he muttered, draining his ale.

“Possibly...though  _ I _ come out of it pretty well,” Nike considered. “And the further afield people scatter their speculations, the more likely they are to scatter them right over the truth and miss it entirely.”

“She’s right Praxos,” Kassandra poured more wine for Nike and herself. “Let people gossip. The more titillating the rumours that they come up with about  _ us _ , the further away they get from wondering about people’s fathers...and sisters.” She glanced apologetically at Nike.

He grumbled under his breath as he refilled his mug and Nike leaned into Kassandra again, lowering her voice to a stage whisper.

“He’s just cross because he wants us to imagine him on top,” she smiled. “You, however, seem to be taking it admirably in your stride?”

“I’m flexible,” Kassandra shrugged.

“I’m delighted to hear that,” Nike winked, provoking another blush. “I have to say though,” she changed the subject. “Your crew, whilst noisy, are rather well behaved.”

“That’s because their mater and pater are here to keep an eye on them,” Praxos laughed, shooting a glance at Kassandra.

“Well their pater is going to be flat on his back pretty soon,” Nike watched as Barnabas struggled to climb onto a table, before launching into a song about a satyr and a goatherd.   
  


Leaving aside Barnabas’ dubious repertoire of drinking songs, the crew were behaving themselves pretty well Kassandra was pleased to see. By the time she and Praxos made their way out, swaying a little, there had been no bar fights and the bare minimum of vomiting considering the amount of wine that had flowed.

“Give me a minute, Kassandra,” Praxos slapped her shoulder and belched. “I just need to answer the call,” she watched him stride unsteadily round the corner and moments later heard his outraged exclamation.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you little shit!”

Kassandra raced off after him and seconds later a skinny, middle aged man in a charcoal stained chiton came barreling straight into her, knocking himself on his ass, but leaving her immobile.

“Hey, hey,” she bent and grabbed a fistful of his clothing to drag him to his feet. “What the hell is going on here?”

“It’s a fucking outrage!” Praxos was glowering at the wall. “I’ll rip your fucking arms off and shove them clean down your throat, you disrespectful little shit!”

“Just a minute now, Praxos,” she soothed, keeping a firm hold of the man’s chiton. “After all, perhaps _ I’ll  _ want to rip his arms off. Let’s see,” she dragged him over to investigate.

The light from the tavern window illuminated the opposite wall and as she approached, something crunched under her foot. Looking down she saw a small collection of charcoal and chalks on the floor.

“An artist, ey?” she shook the whimpering man a little. “Let’s see what you were up to, shall we?” she peered intently and saw a crude pornographic sketch on the wall, and written above it in big white letters. “Spartan Fucker!!!!”

“See what I mean?” Praxos exclaimed furiously, throwing out an arm in the direction of the picture “Outrageous!”

“That _ is _ an excessive use of exclamation marks,” Kassandra observed, frowning in consideration. “No, no, wait!” She spotted Praxos about to rub the sketch away with his fist. “I like art.” she took a step closer, dragging the artist with her.

After squinting at it for a couple of minutes she turned to him and hauled him up to eye level by the front of his chiton.

“Are you open to constructive criticism?” she smiled dangerously. “I hope so, because I’m about to give you some.” 

She shoved him forward a bit to face his work, keeping a firm hold of his clothing.

“Is that big one meant to be me?” she pointed. There was no response.

“Answer the Misthios, you little slug,” Praxos slapped him so hard round the back of the head that the man almost slipped out of her grasp. 

He nodded, mute and miserable.

“That’s quite flattering in a way,” she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You’re the third person to have drawn a picture of me. But this one is my least favourite, I have to say...so far, at any rate. And that one there, the smaller one? Who is that?”

“Answer her!” Praxos raised a threatening hand.

The man mumbled something, too low to be heard.

“I didn’t catch that, come again?” Kassandra hauled him up to ear level.

“The Archon?” he ventured, barely audible.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” she tilted her head quizzically.

“I’m...telling you?”

“Right! I  _ did _ wonder,” she lowered him a little, just till his toes touched the ground. “That’s not a very good likeness I have to say. I don’t think she’d be flattered, do you Praxos?”

“No, I fucking don’t,” he glowered.

“It’s not a very good likeness at all,” Kassandra stroked her chin thoughtfully. “I’m going to cut you some slack though, my friend, because you only have sticks and stones here to work with and the light isn’t very good. But let’s see if we can improve it a bit.”

“Kassandra?” Praxos frowned, perplexed. 

“Praxos here knows about art,” Kassandra smiled icily. “And I can draw a little. Let’s work together,” she threw the man against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. “Don’t try and make a run for it now,” she advised. “Because we are both much, much faster than we look, me especially. And we’re strong too. And  _ he’s _ really angry...and a little drunk,” she stage whispered, jerking a thumb at Praxos.

The man stood with his back against the wall, twisting the hem of his chiton between blackened, trembling fingers.

“Get your charcoal now,” she nodded and waited for him to comply. “Right now. The Archon’s hair is all wrong for a start. You’ll have to rub that whole part out and try again... _ go on _ …” she added threateningly when he made no immediate move.

“There we go,” she smiled as he began to rub at the drawing with the skirt of his chiton. “Sweep it back from her forehead...there now...don’t forget her braids…”

She and Praxos watched as he scribbled with shaky hands, repeatedly glancing over his shoulders at them.

“It’s not great,” Kassandra folded her arms and cocked her head to one side, “but it’s better. It’s difficult with a lump of charcoal on a wall, I suppose. Now, that necklace is wrong too. I don’t know, man, it’s like you’ve never really looked at your Archon,” she shook her head sadly. “Here, let me help,” she snatched the charcoal from his hand and added the detail. “There now, you go over that, we want it to be your work after all, don’t we?”

This done the man dropped the charcoal and looked anxiously over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t…”

“I bet you are,” Praxos loomed over him. “Sorry you got caught, you little shit!” he raised his fist and the man cowered.

“No, don’t knock him out yet, Praxos,” Kassandra held up a hand. “He hasn’t finished. He still needs to do  _ me _ ,” she gave a terrifying grin.

The man’s legs were shaking now and he cast a darting, hopeless glance to the corner of the tavern, but Praxos had his way blocked, his huge hands braced on his hips, his face like thunder.

“See,” Kassandra clapped a hand onto the artist’s shoulder. “You’ve got  _ my _ hair wrong too,” she leaned right down till he could feel her warm breath against his ear. 

“You really don’t have an eye for details do you? Not to worry though, you can work on that eh? Every day’s a school day with the right attitude. You’ve done my braid quite nicely,” she patted him so hard on the shoulder that he swayed. 

“I’m almost sad to tell you to rub it out. But I never wear it on that side. Never have. In part it makes sure it doesn’t get in the way of my weapons, but mainly because I just never have. Try again,” she shoved him against the wall.

She took a step back and stood closer to Praxos, arms folded, watching the cowering man work.

“It’s looking better isn’t it?” she looked up at him. He emitted a low growl.

“He’s a man of few words,” she smirked as the artist turned to face her, his face grey even in the lamp light. “But _ I _ think it’s improving. Now!” she stroked her chin pensively and eyed the picture with theatrical concentration. “There’s still something not _ quite _ right...but I can’t put my finger on it…” she frowned, tapping a finger against her lips.

A small puddle began to form around the man’s left foot.

“Oh yes!” she stepped closer to him, carefully avoiding the darkening dirt. “There it is!” she twisted him round by the shoulder to face the wall and pushed his head down to where she was pointing. “What’s  _ that _ ?”

There was no answer but they both heard him gulp, before he slumped to his knees with a wet thump, sobbing in fear. Kassandra gazed down at him with a pitying look.

“Come on now man, there’s a time and a place for kneeling crying in a puddle of your own piss.”

“Is there?” Praxos growled.

“They say there’s a time and a place for everything, so I imagine there must be,” she gave him a shrug before turning back to the weeping man at her feet.

“It was just a joke,” he gulped, his chin wet with snot and tears. “Just a stupid joke. Please, please don’t hurt me. It’ll never happen again, I swear.”

“Oh now, no one likes a quitter,” she leered menacingly. “Don’t be so dismissive of your talents. An artist is entitled to defend their work. What. Is.  _ That _ ?” she punctuated her question with repeated stabs at the wall.

The man mumbled something unintelligible and she crouched low, put her ear near his mouth.

“Try again, I didn’t catch that.”

He stammered something too quietly for Praxos to make out.

“Ah!” she stood up. “I see! Now you  _ think _ I’m going to be angry about that, don’t you?” she smiled.

The man nodded, avoiding her eyes.

“But I’m going to cut you some slack once again, because I want to see your work improve. Presumably you’ve never seen me naked, have you?”

He shook his head frantically, staring wide eyed at the ground.

“And therefore you weren’t to know really. So you made a guess,” she smiled. “You guessed wrong, but I’m not going to hold that against you. Rub it out now, there’s a good fellow, let’s aim for accuracy.”

She hauled him to his feet, wet dirt clinging to his knees and shins and shoved him towards the wall. 

By the time he’d corrected Kassandra’s anatomy he was back on his knees in the dirt, sobbing against the stonework.

“That’s sort of spoiled the impact of your composition of course,” she surveyed it. “But I think it’s as good as it’s going to get, under the circumstances. What do we think, Praxos?”

“I think he's a filthy minded little shit who deserves to be thrown into a cell and the key lost,” he crossed his arms and glared at the man.

“That’s an option of course,” she nodded thoughtfully. “I was thinking of just throwing him off the dock, personally, because I’m impressed by the title he’s given it,” she pointed to the wall before dragging the artist to his feet again.

“Because you can read it two ways can’t you?” she sneered menacingly, dragging him close till he was almost nose to nose with her. 

“Is it the  _ Archon _ who is a fucker of Spartans? Or is it  _ me _ who is a Spartan fucker? See Praxos, it works both ways. Clever eh? I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you intended that. All the same,” she gave the man a shake, “we can’t just leave this here, where children might see it. Not to mention that you can’t just deface Mikis’ wall like that. Rub it out now, use your chiton, it’s filthier than the picture already. Then we’ll take you to get cleaned up.”   
  


“I don’t understand why you let him get away with that,” Praxos shook his head confounded, as they made their way home, having dropped the artist off at the dock, in every sense of the words.

“I made him piss himself in terror and threw him into the sea, Praxos, he’s not had a great night.”

“But that...filth,” he shuddered. “That disgusting filth...about you...and about Kyra…” he shook his head miserably.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” Kassandra patted his arm. “But I guarantee that you could go into town tomorrow with a fist full of drachmae and come home a couple of hours later, with a fist full of pictures of Kyra and me fucking...sorry…” she shrugged apologetically as he winced.

“Kyra is a beautiful young woman, in a position of authority,” she said quietly. “People are fascinated by that and many of them have dirty minds, it’s a fact of life, Praxos,” it suddenly crossed her mind to wonder if Clio had any in her collection. She’d have to check when she got to Kephallonia.

“Well perhaps throwing a few in a cell and forgetting about them would help clean up people’s minds!” 

“The words had the potential to be more dangerous than the picture really,” she said quietly. “But I don’t think he was smart enough to have realised what he was writing. I suspect I’ve probably bumped into him at the agora, or knocked over his drink in the tavern and he just thinks I  _ am _ a Spartan fucker!” she grinned.

“And you weren’t bothered that he drew you...with…?” Praxos blushed hotly, unable to complete his question.

“With a cock?” Kassandra raised her eyebrows. “He’s not the first one to say it. He might not even be the first one to  _ draw _ it, I’ve just not seen the pictures,” she shrugged.

“It’s fucking disrespectful,” he glowered, thrusting his hands into his belt. “And you think the town is full of these pictures?”

“Not  _ full _ of, no!” she laughed. “But there’ll be enough.”

“We should send a few guards through the place,” he muttered. “Find them and burn them.”

“You know what’s much more dangerous than people making a few dirty jokes about the person in power?” she asked as he turned his head and gave her a quizzical look.

“People seeing you...seeing  _ us _ ...sending in guards to drag away the people making dirty jokes about the person in power.”

“Hmph,” Praxos grumbled. “That’s as maybe. But we’re not telling Kyra about this, all the same.”   
  


Their encounter with the street artist had gone a long way towards sobering up Kassandra by the time they reached what she was already thinking of as “home”.

Upstairs she found Kyra sitting up in bed, a lamp burning brightly on the bedside table. She’d fallen fast asleep, head bowed, a writing board propped up on her knees, a quill slipping from her fingers. Orion was curled up at the bottom of the bed. He raised his head a little as she entered and thumped his tail a couple of times against the blankets before going back to sleep.

Kassandra quietly removed her boots as she stood by the door and then padded over, catlike, to gently take the pen from Kyra’s limp fingers. There was a small ink-stain on the sheet about her waist. She’d be annoyed about that when she spotted it, Kassandra thought, smiling. 

Gathering up the papers that Kyra had been working on she cast an eye over them. She had begun to list the tasks that would need to be carried out whilst she was travelling to Kephallonia. Meetings, contracts, schedules, were all recorded and cross referenced against when they needed to be completed and which person would be best equipped to deal with them. Kassandra was careful to keep them in the same order as she tapped the sheets into a neat pile and placed them on the table.

Beneath them she discovered a few smaller sheets. About the right size to be kept in a pocket, she decided, picking them up and noticing some familiar names. She frowned and began to read more carefully, her throat tightening as she did so.

Kyra had listed all the people on Kephallonia that Kassandra had spoken about, recording their rough ages, physical characteristics, likes and dislikes. She was surprised by how much she'd clearly revealed to her. Selene would be furious if she found out that Kassandra had mentioned her arthritic knee, she thought guiltily. She’d also made speculative notes of what she thought they might have in common, topics for conversation. At the bottom of Selene’s surprisingly long entry she’d written, “favourite poets?” and “what was K like when she was little?”

Kassandra wiped her eyes quickly with the back of her hand, and moved on. She noted that there were three big question marks at the end of Clio’s list. Not altogether surprising, she conceded. Markos’ entry read more like a character assassination she noted, but none of it was inaccurate. Phoibe had a whole page to herself. In the list of things they had in common Kyra had written. “Lost her parents (to bandits) about 7. Same age as K and me.”

She blinked slowly and a large tear dropped onto the papyrus, fortunately missing any of the ink. Kassandra wiped her eyes brusquely with her hand and shuffled the sheets back into order, placing them under the pages detailing the schedule for Kyra’s absence. She wasn’t sure that she’d want to know that Kassandra had seen she was doing homework in preparation for meeting with her friends.

When she lifted the writing board from Kyra’s knees, the movement was enough to rouse her. She opened her eyes and looked up with a drowsy smile.

“You’re back! I must have fallen asleep.”

“You certainly did,” Kassandra smiled, propping the board up against the table before bending to kiss her. “You work too hard.”

“I need something to keep me occupied when you’re not here,” Kyra smiled sleepily, watching as Kassandra got undressed, washed quickly and unbraided her hair, combing her fingers through the tousled waves to loosen it.

“Well what did you do before I decided to stay here?” she came and climbed into bed beside her.

Kyra rolled over and snuggled in tight against her, wrapping an arm about Kassandra’s waist, resting her head on her chest, sighing at the warmth.   
“Thought about what it would be like if you  _ were _ here, mostly,” she murmured quietly as she drifted back to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe's arrival on stage is further delayed for a chapter of self indulgent slap stick.

Kassandra was surprised by how high the sun had risen when she woke the next morning. She was even more surprised that Kyra was still lying cuddled tightly around her, fast asleep.

This was nice, she thought, hugging her a little tighter. She should make the most of it before Savina came tapping on the door once again to summon Kyra back to her duties. She imagined it would be just a matter of minutes, as she turned her head a little to breathe in the scent of Kyra’s hair, and closed her eyes.

It was Kyra herself who woke her some time later though, climbing back into bed.

“Good morning,” she resumed her place in Kassandra’s arms, leaning up a bit to be able to look at her. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very,” she kissed her, blinking sleepily. “In fact I think we may have overslept,” the room was warmed by the morning sun. “Where’s Savina?”

“In bed with Kittos hopefully, perhaps doing what I’m planning to do with you in a moment,” Kyra chuckled. “Unless they made an early start and went to the beach with Spiros. That’s what they had planned for today.”

“Spiros?” Kassandra frowned. “Savina doesn’t have a child, does she?” she asked, afraid that she might have missed what seemed like an important piece of information.

“Not exactly,” Kyra laughed delightedly, kissing lightly across Kassandra’s chest. “He’s their dog. He was a wedding gift from Aegeus.”

“Thank the gods,” she relaxed back against the pillows. “I know I don’t pay attention a lot of the time, but that would have been embarrassing. Anyway, not that I’m not pleased to hear that she’s got a lovely day planned...but...I was expecting her to come and interrupt us ages ago.”

“Not today,” Kyra shook her head. “It so happens that all the vital business of the moment is completed, and you and your crew have finished the building work. I gave Savina and Aegeus the day off, against their protests. So, here we are,” she smiled suggestively.

“Indeed we are,” a leisurely grin crept over Kassandra’s face before she glanced about her curiously.

“If you’re looking for Orion, I’ve just let him out to go pee and get his breakfast. He likes to have it with Cymone. I suspect because she supplements it with treats while I’m not there.”

“No day off for Cymone then?” Kassandra smirked, pulling Kyra closer, encouraging her to roll on top of her.

“You’ll be relieved to hear that no, you don’t have to deal with me preparing our breakfast,” Kyra laughed.

Although she wouldn’t have said it to her face, Kassandra was rather relieved by that news. It wasn’t that Kyra was a terrible cook. The handful of meals she knew how to prepare, she did well. Certainly much better than her own limited repertoire of things boiled beyond the point of edibility or roasted over an open flame for not quite long enough. Cymone, however, was an excellent cook and had responded with delight to the news that an appreciative misthios with a hearty appetite was joining the household.

When Kassandra ambled into the kitchen some time later, Cymone greeted her cheerfully and set to preparing a rather large breakfast for her.

“And how is our lovely Archon this morning?” she placed a platter of warm teganites down by Kassandra’s elbow and took a seat opposite, watering a cup of wine and offering it to her.

“She seemed very well when I left her,” Kassandra grinned, but refused the wine.

“I bet she did,” Cymone winked broadly. She’d been a good deal less discrete in her acknowledgement of their relationship than Savina and Aegeus, though never in front of Kyra. “You’re good for her,” she took the wine herself and watched Kassandra casting a surreptitious glance around the table.

“There’s no milk I’m afraid,” she shook her head. “I still can’t get used to you wanting to drink the stuff. But don’t worry, I’ll get my head round the idea eventually.”

“That’s okay,” Kassandra mumbled around a mouthful of pancake and cheese. “Water is fine.”

“Ah, good morning to you Archon,” Cymone got to her feet as Kyra strolled in, casually dressed in a loose chiton, with her hair down. “I trust you slept well?” she shot a sly glance to Kassandra who concentrated on pouring water for herself.

“Excellently, thank you Cymone,” Kyra took a seat and eyed Kassandra’s half empty plate with fond amusement. “Sit, please,” she waved a hand at the cook as she made a move towards the stove. “I can make a perfectly good breakfast from what’s on the table. If I’m quick enough,” she added as Kassandra rolled another pancake around a lump of fish, and devoured half in one bite.

“You should have some eggs,” she mumbled. “You put a couple of these pancakes then an egg on top of each one and smush up…”

Kyra shook her head, poured herself a cup of wine and added some water, before selecting a couple of ripe figs, some cheese and a chunk of bread.

“You are such a child at times,” she laughed. “Though I’m sure Cymone appreciates it.”

“I appreciate someone appreciating my work,” she smiled, resuming her seat and beginning to peel an apple. “I was just apologising to Kassandra for the absence of milk, but we’re on the case, aren't we, Archon?” she gave Kyra a meaningful look and received a quick frown and a shake of the head in return.

Kassandra was so preoccupied with wiping around her plate with a piece of bread that she missed the interaction.

“I said it was fine,” she shrugged. “It’s not like I’ll grow anymore. Markos stopped letting me have milk as soon as he decided I’d stopped growing.”

“Really?” Kyra narrowed her eyes. “And when, pray tell, did he decide that was?”

“When I started bleeding,” Kassandra licked her thumb clean of a dribble of honey.

“Indeed?” she frowned. “And had you?”

“Had I what?” Kassandra looked up and stifled a belch. “Pardon me.”

“Stopped growing?” Cymone seemed just as irritated as Kyra by this piece of information.

“Gods no!” she laughed, reaching for an apple. “Not for years!”

The look on Kyra’s face made her think that this news might be making its way onto her cheat sheet for Markos a little later.

“It was all right,” she reassured her. “Selene always had some in for me.”

“Well, unusual as it is, we’ll make sure that you’ve always got some here too, pretty soon,” Cymone leaned across the table and patted her hand. She seemed about to say more but Kyra interrupted quickly.

“You know, now I think about it an egg _ does _ sound good!” 

“Excellent,” Cymone slapped her knees and got to her feet. “You work too much and eat too little most of the time. Sort that out Kassandra, would you?”

“I’ll do my best,” she crunched her apple and smiled fondly at Kyra. “But she _ is _ my boss, at the end of the day,” she grinned.

There was a ribald snort from the direction of the stove and Kyra frowned, opening her mouth to say something but Kassandra intervened quickly.

“If you’re not working today,” she wiped a trickle of apple juice from her chin with the back of her hand. “I thought perhaps we could ride this afternoon? On horses,” she added hastily, hearing the beginning of a chuckle from Cymone.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she came over, placed a teganite on Kyra’s plate and slid the egg on top. “Fresh air and exercise. Do you a world of good. Anyway, Kassandra?” she looked over to her. “I’m going to roast some nice fish for your handsome captain tonight, grilled vegetables, perhaps some chicken?”

“You mean _ Barnabas _?” Kassandra looked up with a puzzled frown.

“Indeed I do,” Cymone had begun to peel vegetables. “I understand that it’s a bit outside your realm of experience, but take it from me, he’s a fine looking figure of an older chap.”

Kyra cleared her throat warningly.

“Well that sounds delicious. He’ll be very appreciative. You eat some grim meals on a ship after a while,” Kassandra reminisced. “One time we were out in the middle of nowhere, down by those gods forsaken volcanic islands, and found out that all the salt fish had spoiled, but it turned out there were rats in the…”

I think it’s time we let Cymone get on with her work,” Kyra said firmly, getting to her feet and patting Kassandra’s shoulder. “Especially if she’s wanting to impress Barnabas later this evening.”

Kassandra was a little disappointed, but not totally surprised when Kyra settled down with some paperwork in the living room.

“I thought you’d finished all your work?” she strode over to the balcony and looked out.

“I have no meetings but an Archon’s work is never done,” she smiled without looking up.

“I don’t know,” Kassandra hopped up onto the balustrade and squinted off over the roof opposite. “I’ve met a couple whose work never began.”

Kyra laughed and stopped what she was doing.

“This is just preparation for our trip...what the hell are you doing? Get down off there, before someone sees you, or you fall!”

“I just thought I saw someone round the stable,” Kassandra remained where she was. “Looking a bit shifty.”

“Well the rest of the staff are still working today,” Kyra got to her feet and went over to the balcony. “And that stable lad with the red hair always looks shifty, he can’t help it. I think it’s because of his lazy eye.”

“I couldn’t see his damned eye from over here,” Kassandra laughed, looking back over her shoulder.

“Would you get down off there? Please?” Kyra folded her arms. “You’re going to break your fool neck one of these days.”

“Not from this height,” Kassandra laughed, making a performance of nearly losing her balance.

“Kassan…”

“All right, all right,” she laughed hopping down and coming over to take Kyra in her arms. “I’m surefooted as a mountain goat.”

“You’re cocky as a rooster,” Kyra reproved. “And “It’s perfectly fine!” will probably be your last words.”

“No they won’t,” Kassandra urged her back inside and against the wall, tightening her embrace and bending to kiss her throat. “My last words will be “Tell Kyra I’ll wait for her.” 

She’d been expecting a weary sigh and an extravagant roll of the eyes in response, but neither came and she looked up, anxiously.

“Don’t,” Kyra said quietly, cradling her face in her hands.

“What? Wait for you?” Kassandra teased, rubbing her nose against Kyra’s.

“No. Don’t joke about that,” she pressed against her, resting her head on her shoulder. “I swear you think you’re invincible sometimes.”

“Not really,” Kassandra smiled reassuringly. “But it’s useful if my enemies think that I might be. But I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Or to interrupt your work...not _ really _. I was just a bit over excited. I don’t often get to have you during the day.”

“Excuse me!” Kyra pushed her back enough to look her in the eyes. “You won’t be _ having me _ during the night either, if you keep talking like a vulgar mercenary,” she was smiling despite her words.

“What?” Kassandra frowned briefly and then began to laugh when she realised what she’d said. “No, I meant I don’t often get to have you _to myself _ during the day. The pleasure of your company. You’re always so busy. Though I don’t recall you being so affronted by me talking like a vulgar mercenary earlier?” she grinned cheekily.

“_ That _ was different.”

“_ This _ could be different,” Kassandra breathed, brushing her fingertips lightly over Kyra’s lips and watching as her eyelids fluttered closed.

“I suppose it could,” she conceded, opening her mouth a little and running the tip of her tongue against Kassandra’s fingers. “Savina and Aegeus are away after all.”

“And Savina has wisely learned to triple check before entering a room that we’re in. Apart from your office of course,” she dipped her head to kiss Kyra’s neck. 

“Because she knows that the office is totally out of bounds,” she shivered slightly. “Just to reiterate...the office is _ totally _ out of bounds, Kassandra. And don’t you dare leave marks where anyone can see them,” she warned, feeling her begin to nip gently.

“Anywhere they can be seen eh?” Kassandra raised her head, smirking wolfishly. “You are always so thoroughly covered at work, that leaves me a lot of room to play with,” she began to sink to her knees, running her hands lightly down Kyra’s body as she went.

She’d been unable to avoid noticing over breakfast that Kyra hadn’t bothered to bind her breasts before coming down to the kitchen, and as she sank to the floor she wondered just how far her absence of underwear extended. 

Judging by her quickening breath and the fingers curling in her hair, Kyra seemed inclined to allow her to find out for herself. Kassandra reached for the hem of her chiton and began to inch it up over her legs, caressing the firm muscles of her calves as she went.

“You are gorgeous,” she murmured, stooping to press a kiss to the soft skin of her inner knee. “Absolutely…”

“Ah Misthios, at last! I was beginning to think that you had gone out hunting,” Aegeus burst in and stood in the doorway, looking not only unabashed, but quite pleased with himself.

“Fucks sake, Aegeus!” Kassandra glared round at him, quickly lowering Kyra’s skirts and scrambling to her feet to stand protectively in front of her.

“Oh! Has the Archon dropped something, good morning Archon, allow me to assist you,” he bustled over.

“No. No, Kassandra was just...adjusting my sandal,” Kyra shook her head, face flushed. “What on earth are you doing barging in unannounced? You’re not even working today,” she smoothed out the creases in her chiton.

“I was looking for Misthios Kassandra,” he seemed undismayed. “The gift you ordered for her has arrived,” he smirked smugly.

“Really?”

To Kassandra’s astonishment Kyra not only didn’t seem to be annoyed any longer, she looked as smug as Aegeus himself.

“I wasn’t expecting it so quickly. Is it exactly as I asked?”

“Absolutely gorgeous, Archon,” he spread his hands and grinned delightedly. “I have just taken delivery of it and I think you will be very pleased indeed.”

“Excellent work Aegeus,” she stepped around Kassandra and patted his arm. “However, I do need to impress upon you a new rule. We may have been a little lax about this before Kassandra’s arrival, but from now on, do not enter our private rooms until you have received the instruction to do so.”

He blinked thoughtfully. Kassandra frowned and heaved a sigh.

“Unless someone very clearly says, “please _ do _ come in Aegeus, _ right _ now, it would give us _ such _ pleasure to see you”, you stay on the other side of the door. Right?”

“That seems like a very explicit response,” he looked bemused. “But if that is what you wish.”

“Or words to that effect,” Kyra rolled her eyes. “Imagine for example Aegeus, that Kassandra had sustained a minor injury that required treatment and it necessitated her removing her clothes.”

He blinked thoughtfully for a few seconds before nodding his head.

“Ah, yes, I understand. I can see how that might well be awkward for both of us. So...Do _ not _enter the Archon’s private quarters unless explicitly invited in,” he punctuated each word with a tap to his forehead. “That is chiseled deep into the marble of my mind now, I assure you, Archon. Now shall we go and see Misthios Kassandra’s present?” he beamed.

Kassandra rolled her eyes extravagantly and gave Kyra a disbelieving look as they followed him out. 

“Where the hell did you find him?” she hissed as they made their way downstairs. “Being raised by the world’s prissiest wolves?”

“I didn’t inquire as to his parentage,” Kyra said dryly.

Kassandra hadn’t the vaguest idea what the gift could be. There was nothing she wanted or had asked for. As Aegeus hadn’t brought it up with him she assumed it would be in Kyra’s office and was therefore surprised when she grabbed her elbow and led her in the direction of the kitchen. 

She was even more surprised when Cymone greeted her with a large carrot.

“There you go Kassandra,” she grinned. “Go bearing gifts. Imagine Archon,” she smiled at Kyra as they made their way outside. “It’s like the Fates were listening to us over breakfast.”

Kassandra remained bemused until she realised they were heading in the direction of the stables.

“Oh... shit,” she thought dismally. She hadn’t bought her a horse, had she? Kassandra was incredibly fond of her mount and Kyra knew it. What would possess her to try and replace him? Was he not _ grand _ enough for the Archon’s Misthios somehow?

Still, she had some experience of receiving unwanted gifts. She cast her mind back to the time Markos had bought her a new tunic two sizes too small because it was “a bargain”, and had then continually accused her of base ingratitude when he never saw her wearing it. She should give Kyra that one for her Markos list, she thought with a smirk, preparing herself to feign delight.

She was surprised therefore when they walked clean past the stable and out to the area of meadow used as a paddock. She was even more surprised to find it deserted, though she did note that the shed in the corner had received a fresh coat of lime-wash.

Oh gods! She hadn’t taken leave of her senses and bought her a bloody pony, had she? What could have possessed her? She shook her head and took a deep breath. It was the thought that counted. At least that was what Markos had said as she’d struggled to pull the ridiculously small tunic over her head. And this wasn’t the afterthought of a grasping shyster, Kyra must have a reason.

Perhaps it was for the orphanage, she thought suddenly? Maybe Kyra wanted her to teach the children to ride? She could probably do that. She’d taught Phoibe after all, and she’d had to shift as best she could on Phobos and deal with the occasional tumble. It had made her resilient. And quickly taught her to keep her balance.

“Here we are, Misthios,” Aegeus took up position at the fence near the shed. “Don’t be concerned that it’s in the shed. The man said it may be a little insecure at first in new surroundings. Tempt it with your carrot, perhaps?”

She looked down at Kyra who was leaning on the fence, with a much more casual demeanour than she usually displayed around Aegeus, looking hopefully at the shed door. In her casual clothes, hair down, without the trappings of office, she looked so much like the sparky young rebel leader that had first captured Kassandra’s heart that she felt her throat tighten. All right then, she would love this bloody pony, if it killed her.

“Waft the carrot around a bit, make some encouraging noises,” she looked up at Kassandra, grinning excitedly.

Kassandra did as she advised, leaning well over the fence, brandishing the carrot and clucking her tongue. 

Nothing happened for a couple of minutes and she could sense Kyra and Aegeus exchanging looks.

“Come on then,” Kassandra cooed, snapping the carrot in half, hoping that the sound and the smell would do the trick. “There’s a good beast, come get some…”

There was a rustling inside the shed and a head appeared at the door. Black, white and russet, with big, curling, freshly oiled horns. 

“You bought me a goat?!” she spun round, inexplicably amused and delighted. “A goat!” she looked back. “It’s a good looking creature. For a goat, obviously. Come here goat,” she slapped the fence and waved a half a carrot. The goat looked both unimpressed and vaguely judgmental.

“I know it probably seems like a strange present,” Kyra inched closer and slipped her arm through Kassandra’s, ignoring Aegeus’ presence for once. “But Cymone and I were talking last week, and she knows how much you like to drink milk at breakfast and it really is difficult for her to remember because no-one el..”

“You bought me a goat!” Kassandra breathed, beaming with delight. “I don’t know how to milk a goat,” she thought suddenly, glancing down at Kyra. Her initially anxious expression had been replaced with a happy smile.

“_ I _ do,” she laughed. “But Cymone’s going to do it.”

There was some uncomfortable shuffling from Aegeus, presumably feeling a little underappreciated, Kassandra reasoned.

“Thank you Aegeus,” she grinned at him. “You have an eye for a goat, obviously. Good job.”

“Ah, yes,” he seemed a little nervous and held up a finger. “About that.”

“You bought me a goat!” Kassandra laughed again, taking Kyra’s face in her hands and kissing her quickly. “Oh, sorry,” she remembered that they were outside the villa.

“I think we can let it slide just this once,” Kyra leaned into her. “Seeing as we are both off duty. But just this once. See if you can charm her out.”

“Come on goat,” Kassandra cooed, leaning even further over. “Come out and let’s have a look at how beautiful you are. Come and get some nice carrot,” she tossed one half a few feet away from the door.

The goat cast an appraising eye over it, then clearly decided it was the best it was going to get and trotted out.

“There we go!” Kassandra beamed. “She’s gorgeous, well done Aegeus. Who’s a lovely goat then? Who’s a beautiful gi….” she stopped mid word and gaped.

“Aegeus!” Kyra exclaimed, turning on her heel. “That is _ not _ a nanny!”

“Evidently not Archon,” he came a little closer to the fence, wringing his hands. 

“How the hell are we supposed to get milk out of a billy goat?” she scowled. “You do know the fundamentals of animal reproduction surely?”

“I do, Archon,” he nodded glumly. “There was clearly some miscommunication. Entirely my fault I’m sure,” he watched as the goat strutted over to the fence and cast an assessing eye over Kassandra and her half a carrot. 

“I had no idea that the primary motivation for acquiring a goat was the supply of milk. In fact I didn’t even realise that Misthios Kassandra indulged. I’ve only ever known the very young and the very sick to partake, and Misthios Kassandra is clearly neither. I cannot begin to express my profound mortification,” he bowed his head miserably.

“He needs to go back and be exchanged for a nanny in milk,” Kyra rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “I’m so sorry Kassandra, we’ll get this sorted out.”

“No!” she grinned over her shoulder. “I want to keep him.”

Aegeus and Kyra both looked at her, perplexed.

“It’s _ my _ goat,” she grinned. “You bought him for me, Kyra. No one’s ever bought me a goat before.”

“Unsurprising I would have thought,” Kyra moved back to stand beside her. “Are you sure, Kassandra? Because he is a big...”

“He’s a big handsome beast, aren’t you?” Kassandra wafted the carrot under his nose. “You bought me a goat, Kyra,” she said quietly. “So I could have milk,” she put her arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to press a quick kiss to her head. “That’s one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me, thank you.”

“Well we’re not getting any milk out of him,” Kyra observed ruefully. “Unless you want to see Aegeus try?”

“Tempting thought, but we should let him get settled into his new home first,” Kassandra laughed. “C’mere boy,” she held out the carrot and the goat, evidently having enjoyed the other half made a wild lunge at it. 

“Ow, gods damn it,” Kassandra reared back. “We should call him Bitey,” she chuckled examining her grazed knuckles.

“Don’t give a goat a bad name, Misthios,” Aegeus ventured cautiously.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if he’d taken off your fingers,” Kyra took her hand gently.

“Neither would you,” Kassandra winked slyly and received a warning look.

“None of this solves the milk issue of course,” Kyra sighed, watching the goat chewing enthusiastically.

“Get a couple of nannies then,” Kassandra suggested, reaching over to scratch between his horns and getting her hand out of reach just in time. “He’s a feisty one.”

“You do realise what will inevitably happen if we do that?” Kyra arched an eyebrow.

“Absolutely!” Kassandra grinned. “We’ll have babies,” she laughed, completely missing the brief, wistful look that crossed Kyra’s face.

“I hadn’t really planned on becoming a goat farmer,” she recovered herself.

“You don’t need to,” Kassandra watched admiringly as the goat butted experimentally against the fence. “That’s what your staff are for, no? And I assume the orphans like goat meat...and milk for that matter?”

“What a very practical solution,” Kyra laughed. “Aegeus,” she called him over. “Now is your chance to redeem yourself. Find us two healthy nannies.”

“Good looking ones,” Kassandra folded her arms. “Nice rumps, pretty faces.”

“How very shallow of you, Kassandra,” Kyra teased. “Make sure they’re intelligent, Aegeus.”

“Pretty, intelligent, good rumps,” he repeated solemnly. “Perhaps I should begin my search right away?”

They watched him go rushing off, cloak flapping behind him.

“You know who _ would _ love this goat?” Kassandra twitched the hem of her tunic out of reach of his yellow teeth.

“Are you going to say “Phoibe”?” Kyra rested her head against her shoulder. “Then perhaps we should bring her back with us, so she can meet him?”

“That is indeed a very handsome beast Kyra,” Barnabas wandered back into the kitchen, rubbing his knee ruefully. “If a bit bitey.”

“See, I said we should call him Bitey,” Kassandra followed him in. “I’m sorry about that though, Barnabas.”

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” he waved a hand airily. “I have another one and he barely broke the skin. It will stop bleeding in no time! Here, let me help you Kyra,” he bustled over to help set the dishes on the table.

“This all smells delicious,” he sniffed appreciatively. “No, no, allow me,” he pulled Kyra’s chair out for her, before taking his own seat.

“Thank you Barnabas. See that Kassandra?” Kyra gave her an arch look.

“I _ let _ him do that,” she rolled her eyes. “To give him some practice dealing with women who aren’t foul mouthed sailors.”

“They’re not _ all _ foul mouthed!” he protested. “Thyia’s a very sweet girl, if a little frisky when she gets with Odessa, but that can’t be helped I suppose.”

“Thyia is the exception that proves the rule,” Kassandra laughed a bit nervously, noting how Kyra’s eyebrows seemed to be lowering at the mention of Odessa’s name. “So!” she redirected brightly. “Are you excited about our trip to Kephallonia?”

“Am I?” Barnabas nodded his thanks as Kyra filled his cup with wine. “Yes, I am actually. You’ve never been there have you Kyra? Well you should brace yourself a bit. Kephallonia is no Mykonos, it has to be said. It’s a bit of a hole with too many goats.”

Kyra shot an amused glance at Kassandra.

“Not handsome goats, like Bitey,” she assured her.

“No, no, not a patch on that fine fellow outside,” Barnabas rubbed his knee absently. “But plenty of them. Actually it’s funny you should have got Kassandra a goat, because she has quite intimate knowledge of them. Has she told you about the time she…”

Kyra’s eyebrows were on a journey to her hairline by now.

“Not intimate!” Kassandra protested. “Not the way you’re thinking,” she held out a hand towards Kyra.

“What?” Barnabas took a big swig of wine and looked at their faces. “Oh!” he laughed. “Gods no, nothing like that. Kassandra has never _ been _ intimate with a goat, not so far as I know anyway. Well not in _ that _ way.”

“Perhaps we should discuss this later, my love?” Kyra said dryly. “You look like you could do with a drink?” she filled Kassandra’s cup and began to serve the food.

Barnabas was thankfully silent for a few minutes as he ate. Or if not quite silent, at least he didn’t speak.

“By the gods,” he exclaimed at last around a mouthful of food. “This is delicious. It reminds me a little of the grilled fish from that stall in Sami actually, what’s that woman’s name again, Kassandra? You remember her, fine figure of a woman. It’ll be nice to see her again, sample her clams,” he looked up startled, as Kassandra spluttered.

“Are you all right?” he pounded her on the back. “You need to chew a bit more. Selene always says you eat like a hungry dog.”

“Excuse me?” she wiped her eyes and took a drink. “What do you mean “Selene always says”?''

“When we’re chatting,” he tore off a chunk of bread, took a bite and chewed appreciatively. “Delicious. Is your cook a married woman, Kyra?”

“Widowed actually,” she gave him a wry look.

“How unfortunate,” he didn’t sound particularly sad about the news, Kassandra noticed.

“How much time do you and Selene spend talking about my eating habits?” she frowned suspiciously.

“Oh we don’t_ just _ talk about your eating habits,” he was loading some chicken and greens on the remains of the bread. “We talk about all kinds of things, but you mostly. She always likes to know how you are, what sort of incredible deeds you’ve performed since we last met, that kind of thing.”

“And when are you having these conversations?” Kassandra put down her knife and looked at him.

Barnabas caught her expression and swallowed with evident difficulty. Kyra refilled his cup and inched it towards him.

“Whenever we visit Kephallonia,” he took a drink. “We occasionally swing round that way, when you’ve sent us on errands, now and again...not often...just occasionally...now and…”

“They must be delighted to see you,” Kyra took pity on him. “I imagine they miss Kassandra being around.”

“Indeed they do,” he nodded gratefully. “They’re always interested to hear what she’s up to. What amazing feats she’s performed. Even if I suspect they think I’m exaggerating at times, which as you know I never do! In fact, I'm pretty sure they think I make half of it up. One time Selene rolled over and said to me “I am totally convinced”....” he tailed off at Kassandra’s shocked expression. “...”that you...embellish the...truth,” he stroked his beard nervously.

“Rolled over?” Kassandra narrowed her eyes.

“Did I say “rolled over” ?” he laughed. “I meant, _ turned to me _ and said. Actually, you know Kyra,” he cleared his throat. “This wine is going right through me, excuse me for a minute or two would you?” he scrambled to his feet and rushed out.

Kyra allowed him to leave before she released the laughter she’d been holding and turned to look at Kassandra’s stunned expression.

“Don’t look so horrified,” she patted her hand. “I suppose no-one wants to think about their...parental figures...worshiping Aphrodite,” she chose her words carefully.

“Barnabas is not my father,” Kassandra protested with a little too much vigour to be convincing. “And I already have a mother.”

“I suspect you have two mothers,” Kyra said quietly, peeling off a pearlescent flake of the juicy fish. “Though one of them seems to have done most of the vital, unglamorous work. And you heard Cymone. Barnabas is a very handsome older chap, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think..” Kassandra began and was interrupted by his return.

“Not all the time, no,” he patted her shoulder as he passed and gave her a hopeful smile. “But when you do, you’re very good at it. And then sometimes you think too much. You need to spread it out a bit more evenly, like olive paste. Anyway,” he clapped his hands and turned to Kyra with an optimistic expression. “The journey. Did you think about what I suggested?”

“Yes,” she nodded, giving Kassandra a sympathetic smile before leaving her to brood. “We will definitely take the diolkos. It will shave two weeks off the journey both ways and that’s less time away from my duties, people will grumble as it is.”

“A good two and a _ half _ each way with _ our _ crew,” he puffed out his chest proudly. “We’ve used that route a number of times, they’ve got it down perfectly now, it runs like a well greased wheel. Plus our crew is composed entirely of titanesses and titans,” he enthused. “Every one of them from the Commander down. Even little Odessa. Once she gets the bit between her teeth there’s no stopping her.”

“Imagine that,” Kyra said dryly, shooting Kassandra a look. “So are you saying we won’t need to hire men to haul the ship then?”

Barnabas snorted loudly and resumed his meal.

“Certainly not! We did lose a handful of rowers who didn’t think they’d be happy under the new arrangement. Idiots! They’ll be sorry soon enough, but we’re better off without them and they were quickly replaced. Back at full strength we have enough crew to work in two shifts, even with rest breaks, we definitely don’t need haulers. We will need some initially to ready the hull for travel, so that’s an additional expense. And the toll to Korinth of course?” he looked up. “Unless you have some sort of agreement with them as Archon.”

“No, no I don’t,” Kyra shook her head. “And furthermore, I won’t be travelling as Archon. From the moment I set foot on board, till the moment I disembark back on Mykonos, it’s just Kyra. To everyone. I don’t want to give the impression that this is anything more than a personal trip.”

“Heard and understood,” Barnabas filled their cups. “You do realise, Kyra,” he stroked his beard and gave her an apologetic look. “The Adrestia is a fine ship. The swiftest in your fleet. Best crew you could hope for. But the accommodations are...well...Spartan?” he chuckled and winked at Kassandra.

“Barnabas, I was living in a cave when you met me,” Kyra laughed. “I think I can deal with a cramped cabin. We’ll just have to squeeze close together, eh?” she glanced at Kassandra.

“That’s the spirit,” he grinned happily. “That’s what Odessa and Thyia do, I imagine...in _ their _ cabin of course,” he added quickly. “Though they’re much smaller than Kassandra so I imagine...anyway, you are going to have such a good time,” he redirected himself. “Maybe not so much in the cabin of course, but when you get there. Seeing where this one grew up. Such unpromising surroundings, but look at her now!” he beamed proudly. “The Hero of the Aegean! Phoibe is going to be beside herself when she sees you. When she sees you _ both _!” he added.

“Thank you again, Kyra,” Kassandra said quietly, as they lay spooning in bed later that night.

“Gods, you don’t have to keep thanking me for that goat,” Kyra laughed, embarrassed.

“Not for the goat,” she chuckled, pressing her nose into Kyra’s hair and breathing deeply. “Though, yes, for the goat as well actually, because that may be the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. But I meant for arranging this trip. I know it’s a huge amount of work for you, and the others of course. I really do appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Kyra caught her hand and squeezed it softly. “It’s not just for you after all. I want to see where you grew up, to meet your friends. To meet Phoibe. I know how important they all are to you.”

Kassandra was quiet for a few moments, thinking back to what she’d seen the previous night.

“You’re putting so much effort into this,” she said finally. “I...well, last night, when I got back. I saw all your notes.”

“Well, there’s nothing really sensitive waiting my attention,” Kyra said quietly. “There’s a lot of work, but there always is. It’s just a matter of making sure that they all know what’s expected of them and when, while we’re away. Especially Aegeus,” she shook her head. “Clearly I’m going to have to be very explicit about _ his _ instructions.”

“I meant the _ other _ notes,” she replied softly. “About my friends.”

There was a long, awkward silence and she could feel the tension in Kyra’s body.

“You want to be prepared,” she gave her shoulder a soft kiss, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “It’s very Archon like of you,” she teased carefully.

“What if they don’t like me?” Kyra’s voice was so quiet Kassandra only just made out what she was saying. “They’ve all known you since you were a child and now I just come rolling up. They don’t know me at all…what if?...”

Kassandra hugged her more tightly, tilted her head forward so she could whisper in her ear.

“They are going to love you, Kyra. Almost as much as I do. Clio and her girlfriend will make an only half joking pass at you. Which you will politely decline, I assume?” Kyra could hear the smile in her voice. “Though we can discuss that if you wish?” she teased, rubbing her nose against Kyra’s neck, hearing her reluctant laughter.

“Selene will decide within the first ten minutes that you’re too good for me and take me aside to carefully explain how to step up my game. And Markos? Well, to be quite honest, no one ever gave a wet shit about whether Markos liked them or not, so you can forget about that.”

“And Phoibe?” Kyra asked, soft and nervous.

“Phoibe is going to adore you,” Kassandra grinned. “You two have so much in common. When she sees what a great archer you are, you’ll completely replace me. And you’re both so smart. Much smarter than me,” she chuckled. “The pair of you will be running rings around me by the end of the second day. She’ll never want you to leave.”

“About that...I was thinking, last night,” Kyra began tentatively. “Perhaps you...well, perhaps you might like to see if she wants to come back to Mykonos with you?”

The silence this time sparked with Kassandra’s delighted disbelief.

“Really?” she said at last, raising her head to look at Kyra.

“If she’d like to of course,” she explained. “We could ask her if she’d like to come back to see the Islands, what it’s like, get to know the people. And then if she likes it...well there’s lots of room in the villa. From what you tell me of Kephallonia her options there will be limited. And if she’s as bright and intelligent as you say, well, we could offer her a much better future here. If you think that’s something that she might like?”

“Are you kidding?” Kassandra leaned up on one elbow and beamed at her. “She’ll jump at the chance Kyra. She’s always, I mean _ always _ angling after coming with me, every time I leave. But in the past it was just too dangerous. I never knew where I was going to be from one day to the next most of the time, or if I’d even make it to sundown. But it’s different now. I’m settled here, with you. We could...we could bring her back with us. We could live here together, the three of us, almost like a...” she stopped abruptly, afraid of the words that had almost slipped out of her mouth.

Kyra caught her face in her hands before she could turn away to hide her embarrassment. She looked at her silently until Kassandra was drawn at last to meet her eyes.

“Not _ almost _ like, Kassandra,” she smiled tenderly. “ _ Just _ like. We could be just like a family.” 

Kassandra’s look was cautious but hopeful and her eyes glittered with unshed tears as she bowed her head to hers.

“Blood has let us both down,” Kyra whispered, easing her down to rest against her chest. “Let’s see what happens if we make a family for ourselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the esteemed fishbone76 first read this, she essentially went " a goat chapter?!" And with childlike glee i defended it by saying "I've mentioned him a few times, so I wanted him to have an origin story".  
I could feel her bemusement over the miles and later realised that I was thinking about his appearance in something that i haven't posted, but by then it was written.  
Anyway, it's my rambling tale, and if I want the damn goat to have an origin appearance, who's going to stop me?! No-one, that's who! Bwah-ha-ha.  
So this is entirely my doing, and never fear, Phoibe's making her own appearance next chapter, this just gives her a bit longer to run through her lines.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe receives some exciting news, Markos is an asshat, and some readers are suddenly introduced to a clutch of OCs they've never met before, I imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah there's a flurry of OCs in this suddenly, who didn't appear in the "companion piece", but worry not, they're simple folks and hopefully we've managed to make it clear who everyone is.

If she closed her eyes and concentrated, Phoibe could almost feel Kassandra’s strong, reassuring hand on her shoulder, could almost hear her softly whispering in her ear.

“Keep your eyes fixed on your target Phoibe. Nothing exists but the target. Control your breathing now. In and out slowly, and when you’re ready,  _ only _ when you’re ready, let the bowstring slip from your fingers.”

She opened her eyes and peered intently through the early morning mist. The big male rabbit had lowered his head and was nibbling at the clover, totally oblivious it seemed, to all around him.

“Guide my arrow,” Phoibe breathed, exhaling slowly and relaxing her fingers.

The arrow hissed through the air, the impact sending the rabbit backward into a patch of hyssop, dead before he’d even begun to chew the mouthful of clover he’d taken.

Phoibe grinned delightedly and couldn’t refrain from a quick punch of the air with her fist before setting off to claim her prey.

It was a good thing she had kept her eye on him throughout, she smiled. He’d slid back a good way and it was the fletching of her arrow that allowed her to locate him as she approached. He was a huge rabbit, plump with the new growth and with a thick glossy coat.

“Thank you for your sacrifice, friend,” Phoibe whispered, placing a respectful hand on his meaty haunch as Kassandra had taught her.

When she picked him up, he hung heavy and warm in her hand and she made her way back to her hide and placed him with the other five rabbits she’d already slain. That was enough, she decided. She had ventured out far enough this morning that she was only a short jog from Widow Agape’s home. It would be a quick trip to go and give the old woman a fresh rabbit and she always had some sort of cake or pastry waiting for visitors.Stringing together her catch, she slung them over her shoulder beside her quiver and set off, whistling to herself. 

An hour later she was back on her way, a rabbit lighter and a good deal of cake heavier, wiping milk from her upper lip. If she was totally honest she could take milk or leave it, but the taste reminded her of Kassandra somehow, and if it had helped her grow to such impressive size and strength then Phoibe would cultivate the taste.

She should run at least part of the way, she knew, working on her endurance was important. When Kassandra finally took her with her, it would be vital that she was able to keep up. Right now though, she felt much too full. Perhaps that last slice had been a mistake. But it had been so good.

By the time she reached Markos’ vineyard she was feeling a lot less sluggish. The workers greeted her as she made her way up to the house.

“Is he around?” she asked one of them as she passed.

“When is he not, the lazy bugger,” he muttered. “He’ll be inside counting his bloody money no doubt.”

The worker was quite right. As Phoibe strode in with a cheery greeting Markos shot upright and threw a cloth over the pile of drachmae on the table.

“Oh, it’s you!” he sighed, evidently relieved. “A successful morning I see,” he eyed the string of rabbits.

“They were co-operative today,” she dropped one on the table for him.

“How many have you got there?” he peered over her shoulder. “Go give one to my charming new tenants and while you’re there, tell them the rent is due.”

Phoibe heaved a huge sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Can’t you tell them yourself Markos? I only came in to give you a rabbit. I’m sorry I did now.”

“That’s a nice attitude I must say,” he pouted. “Would it kill you to help me out a little round here, now and again?”

“I’ve just given you a rabbit!”

“Yes, yes and I’m very grateful. It’s nice of you to think of me occasionally,” he grumbled sulkily. “I barely see you these days. You’ve plenty of time for that lot in Sami I notice.”

“That lot in Sami keep me clothed and fed,” Phoibe was beginning to regret stopping off here. There were plenty of people who would appreciate a fresh rabbit without guilt tripping her while she was delivering it.

“And I suppose  _ I’ve _ done nothing for you all this time?” he placed a theatrical hand to his chest. “I’m still here at least. I didn’t abandon you to go flitting around the Aegean monster hunting or whatever the hell it is that she’s up to.”

“Kassandra had important stuff to do,” Phoibe snapped defensively. “Dangerous stuff. She didn’t abandon me. It was too dangerous to take me with her. But she’s coming back for me and I’ve been training hard. I can almost get to the top of the statue of Zeus, and I can run full speed from here to Sami now, almost. She’s going to take me with her the next time she comes.”

“Oh yes?” he smirked. “And when will that be? How many months has it been since her last visit? You’ve grown out of a tunic since then. Your time would be better spent repaying the people who looked after you when you were in need, rather than scrambling up and down bloody Zeus trying to impress someone who’s hardly ever here to see it.”

Phoibe bit her lip hard and slung the rabbits higher over her shoulder.

“These are all spoken for,” she turned on her heel. “So you can collect your own rent.”

“You take after her you know!” he snapped at her heels as she left. “Disloyal, ungrateful, fair weather friend.”

Phoibe ran through the vineyard, vision swimming, ignoring the greetings of the workers as she sped past. Once she was safely out of sight she slowed and flopped down on the grass leaning back against a rock.

Markos was a bloody liar, she wiped her eyes fiercely with the back of her hand and tried to slow her breath. Crying wouldn’t get you anywhere. You couldn’t aim if you couldn’t see. You never saw Kassandra sitting around crying, she sniffed wetly.

She  _ had _ been too small and slow and weak to go with Kassandra before, she understood that. But she’d trained so hard in the meantime. Ninety five times out of a hundred she brought down a rabbit quick and clean with one arrow. The times she missed were generally when a sudden noise, or the shadow of some bird of prey startled them before she could take her shot. She  _ could _ run to Sami from here! Not at full speed all the way, but closer to it every time. And she could get right to the top of Zeus’ head now. When Kassandra came next time she would ask her to show her how to climb the thunderbolt. She could do it, she knew she could, she just needed Kassandra here to give her confidence.

When would that be she wondered, watching a large hawk wheeling overhead? How long had it been since her most recent visit? She would have to check the record she kept back in her room at Selene’s. It was becoming a big enough figure as to be largely meaningless, she reflected glumly.

She’d seen Barnabas just about three months ago though. He’d brought the Adrestia on an entirely round-about and uneconomic side trip to visit them, and had sworn that Kassandra was perfectly well, just tied up trying to restore her mother and brother to their home in Sparta.

It was strange to think of Kassandra having an actual blood family now. What were they like, Phoibe wondered? Did Kassandra look more like her mater or her pater? Did she and her brother look alike? She’d never had a good word to say about Sparta whenever the subject had come up in her earlier years and Phoibe had soon learned to avoid the topic if she didn’t want Kassandra’s mood to become introspective and morose. But that was before she found out that she had surviving relatives. Would she decide that she wanted to stay there now, with her  _ real _ family? Would she forget about Phoibe now that she had a  _ real _ little brother?

No! Phoibe shook her head and swallowed hard against the tightening of her throat. Kassandra would never do that. She was busy, performing incredible feats that only she could do, helping people who needed her. Before too long she would remember that Phoibe needed her too.

And at least Barnabas’ news had been reassuring. Kassandra was well. Though, to be fair, she wasn’t sure that he’d tell her if it was otherwise. She was alive though, that much was certain. There was no way Barnabas would be able to hide that sort of grief.

The sun had burned away the last of the morning mist she realised, feeling it warming her legs. It was time she stopped brooding and got on her way. Selene had emerged from her room the previous morning and pronounced that tomorrow would be an ideal day for a thorough clean out. Clio had groaned and rolled her eyes extravagantly much to Iva’s amusement. Phoibe hadn’t minded though. Cleaning floors wasn’t her favourite activity, but she knew Kassandra had done it happily enough when she lived there and it was better to be busy. Especially on days like today, when it would be good to keep her mind occupied.

Sometimes she could go for whole days at a stretch without thinking about Kassandra too much, but on others she couldn’t get her out of her mind. It was nice on occasion to think about the time they’d spent together, growing up, the adventures they’d had, the things Kassandra had taught her. But other days, doubt tunneled through her mind like a worm through an apple. These were generally days when she’d been to see Markos, she realised.

She should stop going to see him she supposed. She didn’t really owe him anything anymore. No matter what they were doing, at some point he would always manage to bring the conversation around to Kassandra, constantly griping about her betrayal of him, constantly seeking to undermine her in Phoibe’s eyes. 

But Kassandra had done her best, always. When she’d had to leave on her mysterious mission, she’d left Phoibe somewhere she knew she would be safe and loved. She knew that Kassandra brought money whenever she visited and gave it to Selene to ensure that Phoibe would always be fed and clothed and have access to a healer if she needed it. But there were times when Phoibe lay awake in Europa’s old bed, staring at the wooden eagle on her bedside table and thought she’d rather be hungry with Kassandra by her side than well fed without her.

This was helping no one. She rubbed her hand brusquely across her eyes and got to her feet, picking up her bow and quiver, shouldering her remaining rabbits. She had four still, including the big fellow, three would be easily enough for a decent stew, everyone would be hungry tonight after a day spent cleaning.

She pondered who should be the lucky recipient of the fourth and quickly settled on Sophitia. She was always happy to toss a bit of fish in the direction of Phoibe’s growing appetite, whether she had the drachmae to pay or not.

Today her largesse was immediately rewarded by Sophitia giving her a small dried squid in return.

“No,” Phoibe waved her hands in protest. “I was trying to do a nice thing for you. You’re always nice to me.”

“And when you do nice things, people do nice things back, hopefully,” Sophitia insisted. “It’s a circle of niceness. Isn’t that right?” she eyed the goat farmer’s miserable wife who was eyeing this performance with a sour expression. “Take it youngster, you’ve still got plenty of growing to do, especially if you’re ever going to catch up with your big sister,” she winked. “By the way, Phoibe, I’ll have those skins off you, unless they’re already spoken for.”

“No,” Phoibe hadn’t taken too much persuading and was already gnawing on the squid. Those slices of cake seemed a distant memory now. “You can have them.”

“Let me pay you now while I remember,” Sophitia waved aside Phoibe’s protests. “There’s being nice and then there’s being foolish,” she dropped a few coins into her hand. “You worked to get those and people deserve to be paid for their work. You ask Kassandra the next time she’s here. She’ll back me up.” She noticed Phoibe’s slightly downcast expression. “No news yet?”

“No, not yet,” she shrugged. “She’s really busy.”

Sophitia poured some water into a clean but slightly chipped cup and offered it to Phoibe who accepted it gratefully.

“She’s not forgotten you, Phoibe,” she placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Poseidon knows how far away she is, doing whatever the hell it is she’s doing, but I guarantee you, wherever she is, and whatever she’s doing, she’s thinking about you. She’ll be back again soon”

“I know,” Phoibe gave a brave nod. “And it gives me time to train before she gets here.”

“Aye,” Sophitia took back the empty cup. “You’ll soon be a better hunter than she is at this rate,” she nodded at the rabbits.

“No one’s a better hunter than Kassandra,” Phoibe grinned brightly. “Except Artemis of course,” she shouldered the remaining game. “Thank you for the squid, and the water. I’ll bring the skins along later.”

The farmer’s wife watched her go, shaking her head, her expression sour.

“You shouldn’t encourage that poor child’s delusions. There’s no way that lecherous dog of a mercenary is coming back to take her with her. The only wonder is that she looked after her as long as she did. The best thing she ever did for her was to leave. Though Hera knows it would have been better still if she’d left her somewhere other than a den of whores.”

“You know,” Sophitia took up her knife and tested the blade against her thumbnail, “there’s a whole sea full of fish right behind you, you don’t have to come bothering me.”

Phoibe made her way along the dock, trying to leap from one mooring post to the next. She’d been doing very well, considering she had a string of rabbits and her bow and quiver bouncing at her back. Suddenly a familiar gruff voice calling her name distracted her and she lost her footing, barking her shin painfully.

“Bugger!” she muttered, rubbing her leg ruefully as she turned to look at the captain who had called after her.

He owned a decent sized fishing vessel that worked around the shores of Ithaka and Phokis. Because he regularly dropped in at Kephallonia to sell part of his catch he often delivered messages from other vessels and ports. Most of Kassandra’s letters home had arrived via him and he was fumbling in his pocket now as he strode over.

“Sorry Phoibe,” he ruffled her hair, smiling apologetically as he eyed the graze on her shin. “I didn’t think, young un. Are you all right?”

“I’ve got another one,” Phoibe shrugged it off. “Did you have a good catch?”

“Fish  _ and _ mail,” he grinned, holding up two sealed letters. “One from Europa and one from... _ you know who _ by the look of it,” he waved the second in the air teasingly, just out of her reach.

Phoibe rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

“There you go,” he conceded, laughing. “They’re a bit crumpled, sorry. But I didn’t want to leave them just knocking around the cabin.” He handed them over.

As she skipped back to Selene’s she examined the two missives. He was right. One was clearly addressed in Europa’s pretty flowing script whilst the other was obviously written in Kassandra’s blocky, less sophisticated lettering. Both were addressed to “Selene and friends”.

Whistling happily she put them carefully in her pocket and set off full tilt for home. The door was wide open and she raced in, skidding a good few feet on the wet floor, before coming to a halt by bumping into the back of Iva who was leaning on a brush, laughing about something.

“Oops, careful little one,” she turned and patted Phoibe’s cheek. “The floor’s wet.”

“I see that now,” she went to put her things in the kitchen.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing about,” Clio was emerging pale faced, from the storage room. “That fell on my head. Morning Phoibe.”

“Spider?” she smiled sympathetically.

“Yes,” Clio shuddered, brushing her shoulders. “A huge one. Where were  _ you _ when I needed you?” she asked with mock severity.

“Catching our supper,” Phoibe skipped over and joined her, peering into the dark closet.

“Got it!” Selene emerged, holding aloft one of her sandals. There was a mess of crumpled legs stuck to the sole. “You weren’t exaggerating for once, that was a huge one.”

“Well don’t show it to me!” Clio took up position behind Phoibe, grimacing.

“Get rid of that for me would you sweetheart, please?” Selene handed Phoibe the murder weapon.

“Gods, that  _ was _ a big one,” she scrutinized it as she made for the door.

“You’ve probably killed their queen now,” Iva chuckled, winking at Clio, who was still shuddering a bit. “Let’s hope they aren’t a vengeful tribe eh?”

“You are, without a doubt, the least compassionate lover I have ever had,” she sighed, watching as Phoibe returned with the clean sandal and stood, allowing Selene to hold onto her shoulder as she put it back on.

“Just as well I have other qualities to make up for it eh?” Iva winked, resuming brushing at the corners of the ceiling.

“I think there’s a gap in the wall where they keep getting in,” Phoibe frowned thoughtfully. “Kassandra did plug it up one time, but I bet it’s come loose again.”

“They’re tunneling through to get to you now, my love,” Iva observed over her shoulder. “You notice that it’s only ever you that finds them.”

“She has a spider sense,” Phoibe grinned. “I’ll go look at that hole when I’ve skinned these rabbits if you remind me. Ooh!” she suddenly remembered. “Letters!” she pulled them from her pocket and brandished them proudly. “One from Europa and one from Kassandra,” she handed Europa’s over to Selene, holding Kassandra’s pressed carefully to her breast.

“Perfect timing,” she smiled. “Let’s take a break while we read them. Pour some wine for Clio would you sweetheart, she’s had a traumatic morning,” she winked.

After the women had spent a few minutes admiring Phoibe’s haul, they poured drinks, Iva placed a plate of olives and cheese on the table and they settled down together to hear the news.

Selene cracked the seal on Europa’s letter and cleared her throat. It took her a moment or two to settle on the right distance away for maximum legibility.

“You know, you should let me read those, my eyesight is definitely better,” Clio sighed.

“But Selene has a much nicer voice,” Iva said, thoughtfully and received a playfully resentful look from her lover.

“I’ll remember you said that,” Clio selected an olive. “Probably tonight at the least romantic moment for you.”

“That will do,” Selene gave her a warning glance over the top of the letter. “Dear all,” she began. “She hopes we are all well. Oh...their cow has had calves. Two. A boy and a girl.”

“I didn’t know cows could have more than one baby at a time,” Phoibe poured herself more water and sipped thoughtfully. “Doesn’t seem like there’d be enough room in there.”

“I imagine they’re a bit smaller to make up for it,” Selene nodded before continuing. “They’d like you to name them, Phoibe. Let me know what you decide on when I write back. Adrian is taking very well to life as a farmer and isn’t missing the sea at all apparently. That’s just as well, there’s not much they could do about it now after all. Oh. Aphrodite the Younger has had kittens, eight, which I suppose is a nice thing?”

“Europa would think it was a nice thing,” Phoibe mumbled around a mouthful of cheese. 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full please, Phoibe,” Selene advised. “That’s one trait you don’t need to pick up from Kassandra. Anyway, to continue,” she peered back at the letter. “Aphrodite has had eight kittens, five girls and three boys. They want you to name those as well Phoibe. So I hope you’re writing all this down? Clio? Apparently one of their neighbours says that if you put a clay figure of Athena in the store room it will keep spiders away.”

“I love Europa like a sister,” Clio took a sip of wine. “But that sounds like bollocks.”

“Excuse you!” Selene gave her a sharp look and discreetly nodded at Phoibe who was frowning thoughtfully.

“Perhaps if we shove a clay figure of Athena into the hole in the wall, it would help?” she suggested.

“Yes, let’s try that,” Clio sounded unconvinced.

“Let’s not be sacrilegious, just to be on the safe side,” Selene said, dryly. “Iva, she’s going to send you some socks it says here. Not for you, for Clio,” she glanced over at her. “To wear in bed, apparently.”

Clio shot a scandalized look across the table.

“You have appallingly cold feet, my love, it’s a sad fact!” she shrugged.

“Kassandra never complained about my cold feet,” Clio protested.

“Well perhaps you didn’t put them in the same places when you were in bed with her?” Iva smiled, unabashed.

“I’ll have you know my feet were all..”

“If I may continue?” Selene cleared her throat meaningfully and waited for silence before continuing. “Where was I?”

“Clio needs to wear socks in bed,” Phoibe supplied, ignoring Clio’s affronted gasp.

“Ah yes...socks…” Selene peered back at the letter. “Here we are...Adrian and I…” she began, then stopped suddenly. She swallowed audibly, opened her mouth and then closed it quickly again, blinking rapidly before speaking again.

“She and Adrian are going to have a baby!”

A delighted gasp huffed around the table.

“She could have led with that!” Selene shook her head in disbelief.

“Not really,” Phoibe said thoughtfully. “If she’d led with  _ her _ baby then we wouldn’t have been excited about the calves and the kittens.”

“Good point,” Clio grinned. “Perhaps they’ll let you name their baby as well?” she patted Phoibe’s shoulder. “What the hell are they doing on that farm? Well I know  _ what _ they’re doing but...did they build that farmhouse over the site of some old fertility cult or something?”

“We’ll make an offering for their health and safety,” Selene smiled, refolding the letter.

“Read Kassandra’s now!” Phoibe breathed eagerly, smoothing the rather crumpled missive with reverent hands before sliding it across the table to her. Selene took a quick drink and broke the seal.

“Now,” Clio gave a good natured sigh. “If you wanted an inexpertly composed letter, here we go!”

“Kassandra is not a bad letter writer!” Phoibe defended.

“Are we  _ sure _ about that? Really?” Clio grimaced playfully.

“She spells everything right,” Phoibe protested. “And her writing is easy to read. You want a bad letter, you need to see Markos’.”

“No one wants to see Markos’ letters, thank you very much,” Selene unfolded the sheet. “And Phoibe’s right, it is legible at least,” she cleared her throat. “Dear Selene,” she began. “And Clio, and Iva and especially Phoibe.”

“I rest my case,” Clio sighed and glanced at Phoibe with amusement. “Can you not work on her a bit the next time she’s over?”

“I’ve done my best,” she shrugged. “She’s not a bad writer, she just struggles to get the words out of her mind and onto the page.”

“Well, she sometimes struggles to get them out of her mind and into her mouth, so I suppose we should make allowances,” Clio laughed fondly. “Can you at least get her to put “dear all”, it would speed things up so much?”

“If you’ve quite finished?” Selene sighed. “I hope that you are all well. I am very well. How is your knee, Sele…” she cleared her throat again and frowned as Phoibe and Clio exchanged an amused glance. “Moving on ...I have some exciting news,” she glanced up. Phoibe was leaning on the table, her chin resting on her folded arms, gazing intently at her with bright eyes.

“I have a…” she frowned curiously and held out the page towards Phoibe. “Does that say  _ goat _ ?”

Phoibe glanced at it for a moment, grinning happily.

“Yes, definitely goat!”

“I was hoping it said  _ goal _ ,” Selene sighed, continuing. “I have called it...what does that say?” she frowned again as Phoibe leaned over to look.

“Bitey!” she exclaimed. “She’s called it Bitey. Oh ho, I want to meet this goat.”

“You’re on your own with that one,” Clio shook her head. “Please tell me she’s not bringing the damn thing with her.”

“Goat...and…” Selene searched for her place. “And I have new armour. It is very grand. You will like it, Phoibe. There is a lot of red and leg. Not sure what that means,” she frowned. “I suppose we’ll find out.” 

“I’ve an idea,” Clio smirked. “I wonder which hapless individual she stripped that from?”

Phoibe rested her chin back on her arms, beaming with delight. This must mean that she was coming to visit? Why else would she have mentioned her liking it, if she wasn’t going to see it soon?

“I am living on Mykonos now. It is very pretty and the weather is nice. There are a lot of boars here. But there are not so many goats as on Kephallonia.”

“Maybe that’s why she bought one?” Iva speculated quietly, chewing on an olive. “To make it seem more like home?”

“Do you really think she has the wherewithal to actively acquire a goat?” Clio laughed fondly. “I bet it followed her home or something.”

“Perhaps someone paid her with it,” Phoibe chuckled.

“The crew send their love, especially Barnabas. He told me to tell you that he is looking forward to seeing you all soon.” Selene continued firmly. “We have been very busy, building silos and…”

“Are you sure?” Phoibe peered over her arm. “That doesn’t sound right…” she squinted. “No...definitely silos,” she shrugged. “Carry on.”

“Thank you,” she replied dryly. “...building silos and Odessa sat on an arrowhead. She has a big scar now on her...yes, well I think we can imagine where,” she frowned. “Ask her to show you it when we get there…..Do  _ not _ ask to see Odessa’s scar,” she looked sternly at Phoibe over the top of the letter. “Any of you!” she turned her gaze on Clio.

“If she offers to show us though, that’s a different matter, right?” she grinned, topping up their cups.

“She’s definitely coming then?” Phoibe grinned excitedly. “Or we wouldn’t be looking at Odessa’s ass ...scar,” she corrected quickly.

“Well Odessa’s definitely coming,” Clio considered. “At least if I have anything…”

“Let’s stay on topic, thank you,” Selene said crisply. “Yes, Phoibe, she’s coming to visit but she can’t say when exactly, it depends how long it took this letter to get here.”

“Looks like quite a while,” Clio eyed its crumpled condition.

“Maybe not,” feeling Selene’s eyes upon her, Phoibe swallowed a mouthful of cheese before continuing. “He had it in his pocket the whole time so he didn’t lose it.”

“It will no doubt be a while,” Selene pointed out, sensing Phoibe’s growing excitement. “Don’t get yourself too wound up just yet. It’s a long journey and the weather could be uncooperative.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Phoibe grinned from ear to ear. “So long as she’s on her way, doesn’t matter how long it takes her to get here.”

“So?” Iva interjected, thoughtfully. “Just straighten this out for me. Which bit of that was the “exciting news” that she mentioned at the beginning? The goat? The armour? Odessa’s rear? That she’s coming to visit?”

“Any or all of the above I imagine,” Clio laughed, stretching lazily. “You know what she’s like.”

“Well, sort of, yes,” Iva didn’t sound convinced. “There’s not a bit missing is there?” she looked at Selene who was turning the sheet over in her hands.

“Ah yes, here we go,” she smiled peering at a hastily squeezed in line or two on the back of the sheet. “We will see you all soon. Or not so soon if the weather is bad. We will be on our way when you are reading this. Best wishes, Kassandra.”

“Best wishes!” Clio snorted and rolled her eyes. “I swear to Zeus. And how does Europa sign off?”

“With all my love and kisses for you all,” they chorused together.

“She’s getting better,” Phoibe defended. “She used to just put “yours” at the end. I stopped her doing that. What’s that little scribbly bit?” she squinted over Selene’s arm.

“Tell Phoibe,” Selene peered hard. “That I called the goat Bitey because it bit Barnabas on the…?” she turned the sheet over again.

“On the what?” Phoibe frowned.

“Are you being coy about saying ass again?” Clio shook her head.

“No,” Selene protested. “She doesn’t say. Looks like she ran out of room.”

“Well it can’t be anywhere vital,” Phoibe gave her hand a comforting pat. “Or she’d have told us that first...unless she didn’t because we had to know about the goat before we knew about the bite?”

“If it was somewhere vital I’m sure she’d have squeezed it in before she told us about the weather,” Iva soothed.

“Possibly, but I wouldn’t put money on it,” Clio said dryly. “Never mind eh Selene, you can go scar hunting while we’re trying not to look at Odessa’s ass.”

“That storage room still needs sweeping,” Selene gave her a sharp look. “It’s about time we got back to it.”

“Yes!” Phoibe scrambled to her feet, punching the air and receiving a curious look from the others in response.

“Most unlikely reaction that I’ve ever seen to that piece of news,” Clio stood with a weary sigh.

“Not the store room,” she raced to the door. “I’m going to go tidy my room to get ready for Kassandra.”

They watched her race out and quickly heard her thundering up the stairs.

“She’s not going to be here for a while, you do realise that?” Iva called after her.

“I’ll keep it tidy till she gets here,” her voice faded as she reached her room.

“Perhaps we should forge a letter from Kass every couple of weeks in that case?” Clio remarked wryly on her way out, ignoring Selene’s reproving glance.

Upstairs Phoibe closed the door behind her and stood for a few moments assessing the state of her bedroom. It was clean, Selene insisted on that and Kassandra would disapprove of it being otherwise, she knew. 

There was a small lavender plant in a pot on the window sill, a present from Europa when she left. Phoibe had followed the care instructions to the letter and the fresh, pleasant scent filled the air now as she decided what to do first.

Kassandra would need some place to keep her clothes. She never came with much, a drawer would do. Phoibe could easily condense her own belongings enough to make space. Then she would have to scrounge up a second chair from downstairs to press into service as a makeshift armour rack. Would that be enough, she wondered, if Kassandra was coming with flashy new armour? It must be fairly grand for her to have even mentioned it, Phoibe thought, considering the rag-tag cocktail of looted bits and pieces she usually wore.

This done she began to gather together the papers and scrolls that she had lying scattered about the place. She eyed the tally sheet she kept of the days since Kassandra’s last visit. It was half covered in marks, but there was no need to count them now, she smiled, or even add to them. A day, a week, even another month, it no longer seemed as bad now that she’d received definite word that she was on her way.

She left out one sheet. It was a drawing she was working on, of her and Kassandra battling a snake maned lion together. She hadn’t got very far with it yet, and maybe she should wait until she’d seen Kassandra’s new armour before completing it? She left it out on the table. The monster could be finished at any rate.

“There!” she grinned at last, standing in the centre of her room and looking about her. Not so bad. The bear skin on her bed would have to be removed and spread on the floor. It was far too warm to have as a cover when Kassandra was in bed as well. But for now it could stay, the nights were still a little chilly at times, and besides, curling her fingers in the deep fur helped her sleep.

She took a leap onto her bed and flopped, spread-eagled on the huge pelt to lie on her back, beaming up at the ceiling. There was a spider web in one corner, she’d have to brush that down in a minute, but it could have a temporary reprieve for now. Then she would go and examine that gap in the storage room wall for Clio.

Everything seemed better suddenly. Kassandra was coming, and this time she would take Phoibe with her. When she saw how hard she’d trained in her absence, how much stronger and faster she was, she would realise that Phoibe would no longer be a burden. She could feel it. And it just showed what Markos knew. He could go hang his stupid self, she grinned. Kassandra would be here soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which anchors are aweigh and dramatic irony abounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer chapter than usual, for which you have fishbone76 to thank/blame. She was very determined about some bits of this.

“What the hell is all this?” Odessa stood, hands on hips surveying the pile of bags on the dock.

“That,” Barnabas indicated the largest of them with an airy wave of the hand. “Is the Commander’s armour and weapons, and that’s the rest of her things,” he nodded towards a much smaller bag.

“Yes, I got that. I meant  _ this _ !” she tapped the other canvas bag with her toe. There was a long cloth wrapped parcel balanced on top of it which shifted a little with her kick.

“That’s the Arch..Kyra’s luggage,” he smiled. “She’s packed very lightly don’t you think?”

“Not as lightly as I expected,” she folded her arms. “Because I’d no idea she was coming with us. What’s all that about?”

“Everyone was told,” he sighed. “I don’t know where  _ you _ were at the time. You need to be more scrupulous about attending my meetings.They’re educational  _ and _ entertaining.”

“Thyia was there, she fills me in,” Odessa shrugged.

“Well she clearly left you unfilled on this occasion,” he frowned, ignoring her ribald snort. “Kyra will be joining us on this trip.”

“Fuck’s sake,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

“Ey, less of that language,” he reproved. “Show a bit of respect. She’s coming to meet Kassandra’s family.”

“Good gods!” Odessa laughed. “They’ll be getting married next!”

“What did I just say? Seeing as Thyia clearly was remiss in her...duties this time, allow me to explain,” he sighed. “The Archon will be joining us on our trip and whilst she is with us we are all to refer to her simply as Kyra. This is not an official visit and she wants to keep things very casual. Not  _ casual _ the way you mean it!” he quickly amended. “You will treat her with the respect she deserves as the Commander’s...the Commander’s..” he came up short.

“Aye, I get it,” she rolled her eyes. “As the  _ Commander’s _ .” 

“That will do! Make sure all these bags are stowed in their cabin. And be sharp about it, they’ll be here any minute.”

He’d barely finished speaking when Odessa raised her eyebrows and nodded up the dock.

“And here comes the happy couple, with  _ Kyra’s _ entourage...that’s very casual, I must say.”

“Two friends is hardly an entourage,” Barnabas watched the little group approach. 

Kassandra was bounding along, with a puppyish spring in her step and a broad grin on her face. Slightly behind her, deep in conversation with Savina was Kyra, dressed casually in a short chiton and sandals, and bringing up the rear, solemn as always was Praxos.

They came to a halt at the end of the gangplank and he could hear Kyra’s voice, tense and serious.

“Make sure Aegeus has the grain checked as soon as it arrives. Not after it’s been put in storage, as soon as possible.”

“I believe he has already checked the samples himself,” Savina ventured cautiously.

“Samples mean nothing. And what does Aegeus know about grain really?”

“He knows how to get on the outside of a surprising amount of cake for a skinny fellow, I’ll tell you that,” Praxos grumbled. “Kyra stop worrying. We have everything arranged. You’ve left us... _ copious _ instructions,” he rolled his eyes. “All will be well. Go, relax, have a nice break away from your duties for a while.”

“Yes...yes, of course,” she took a breath. “Savina, you know which room you’re to have prepared for Phoibe?”

“I do,” Savina gave a fond smile. “I will supervise it myself. Across the corridor and down a little way from your own, with the blue door. I’ve found the perfect bedding. Now, Praxos is right. Stop worrying. We will take care of things until you return. And if anyone asks we are to say you’re away on personal business”

Kyra nodded and gave them a nervous smile. She seemed about to turn and walk up the gangway but stopped and reached out to give Savina a swift, impulsive hug.

“Don’t worry Kyra, everything will be well,” she whispered.

“Kassandra?” Praxos growled. “Take very,  _ very _ good care of her.”

“Of course,” she smiled, watching as Kyra accepted his quick bear hug. “You look after my goat!”

“I know you did not just compare Kyra to that damn goat!” he grumbled as they made their way on board. "Vicious bugger it is."

“She  _ gave _ me that damn goat,” Kassandra laughed, “so make sure nothing happens to him.”

“Well, welcome aboard your Kyra-ness” Odessa waved a hand.

“And you are?” she narrowed her eyes.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance obviously,” Odessa smirked.

“What did I just tell you?” Barnabas gave a weary sigh.

“To not call her Archon, which I did not.”

“Odessa, don’t start,” Kassandra growled, stepping over to loom warningly behind her.

“Ah!” Kyra raised her eyebrows and her chin simultaneously. “So  _ you’re _ Odessa?”

“Has my reputation preceded me?” she grinned, entirely unchastened.

“It frequently does,” Barnabas shoved her in the direction of the luggage. “Shift those bags and stop being disrespectful.”

Kyra took a step forward and reached for her bag but Odessa raised her hands in protest.

“No, no, allow  _ me _ !” she slipped two fingers between her lips and gave an ear splitting whistle that made half the crew turn but only one walk over.

“Will you stop whistling for me like I’m your dog!” Thyia reproved. “I should stop coming.” She held up a swift silencing finger. “Don’t say it! Oh...Arc...Kyra, how nice to meet you at last, welcome aboard.”

“Thank you,” Kyra nodded. “There’s really no need to take my bag, I can do that myself.”

“No, it's no trouble,” Thyia shouldered it and picked up the long parcel. “Ooh, this feels like a bow?”

“Yes,” Kassandra smiled. “It’s for Phoibe. Kyra had it made.”

“Ah!” Odessa hauled Kassandra’s armour onto her shoulder with a grunt. “Greasing the wheels,” she winked. “How very political of you.”

“Don’t be an ass!” Thyia hissed. “No one likes you when you’re being an ass,” she tucked the bow under her arm and picked up the remaining bag.” 

Kyra watched them go, Odessa listing a bit under the weight of Kassandra’s uniform armour which she’d insisted on bringing just to impress Phoibe. She raised her eyebrows and gave Kassandra a meaningful look.

“She’s not so bad,” she shrugged, “once you get past her cocky exterior,” she gave a rather optimistic smile.

“And am I to assume that you’ve explored her soft and yielding interior?” she watched the blush flow across Kassandra’s cheeks.

“Kassandra!” Barnabas interrupted with theatrical brightness, clapping his hands. “We’ll be casting off any minute. Why don’t you show Kyra around the ship, introduce her to a few of our less lively colleagues?”

“No, actually Barnabas,” she frowned. “Why don’t  _ you _ do that. I just want to have a word,” she nodded towards her cabin. Noticing Kyra’s dubious expression she took her hand briefly and pressed her knuckles to her lips. “I just want a quick word, I’ll be right back to join you.”

  
  


“Why are you like that?!” Thyia was grumbling as she entered the cabin. “I hate it when you get like...oh Kassandra, you startled me. I was just going to put this bow underneath your bunk? Is that all right?”

Kassandra nodded and closed the door behind her, leaning back against it.

“Did you need me for something?” Thyia looked back over her shoulder as she stowed the two canvas bags of clothing on the bunk.

“No, thank you Thyia, I wanted Odessa.”

“That didn’t take long!” she smirked, stashing the bulky bundle of armour in the corner before turning and placing her hands on her hips. “We’ll have to be quick, the girlfriend will get suspicious.”

“Just stop it!” Kassandra barked. “Stop behaving like a spoiled child.”

“Oh come on, she can take it,” Odessa laughed. “She was a rebel leader living in a cave full of sweaty sell swords at one time wasn’t she?”

“They weren’t sell swords. And she’s not a rebel now. She’s the official leader, the Archon.”

“Ah!” Odessa held up a finger to her lips and pouted thoughtfully. “But she’s not right now is she? Right now she’s just a private individual on a private trip, is that not right? So if she’s not Kyra the rebel leader any more… and she’s not Kyra the Archon right now...what is she? Even Barnabas didn’t seem sure.”

“Stop it Odessa!” Thyia snapped suddenly. “You’re sleeping on deck tonight if you keep being such a bitch.”

“I’m just curious,” she shrugged. “She’s not a rebel, she’s not the Archon, she’s…”

“She’s my lover,” Kassandra took a step closer, frowning. “She’s my...partner. She’s the woman I’ve decided to commit myself to and I’d appreciate you treating her with a bit more respect.”

Odessa was silent for a moment, blinking slowly.

“Kassandra!” Thyia came over and placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Oh, well done Kassandra. I thought something was going on. Are you going to tell Phoibe? Is that what this trip is about?”

“Well, yes, I…” she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “I guess we’re going to tell all of them.”

“Well done,” Odessa gave a curt nod. “Not before time I suppose, you’re getting a bit too old to still be bird dogging round the Aegean.”

Thyia gave her a long-suffering look before turning back to Kassandra.

“I think that’s the closest you’re going to get to an apology,” she shrugged before taking Odessa’s hand and leading her to the door. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

Kassandra waited until they had left and closed the door behind them before turning and casting an eye around her cabin. It was clean and tidy enough, but it was going to be cramped confines for two people on a long voyage. She did her best to condense down her armour and tuck some of it under the bunk with Phoibe’s new bow before going back on deck.

Barnabas and Kyra were standing chatting with Gelon, as Basileos stood nearby supervising cast off.

“We’re good to go, Captain,” he called over his shoulder. “Ready commander?” he spotted Kassandra striding along the deck towards them.

“Indeed,” she nodded. “Let’s get underway, the sooner we start the sooner we get there.”

“Right, let me get below decks and kick some life into the fuckers, I want to make sure the new blokes are up to scratch, don’t want them buggering things up,” Gelon hitched up her belt. “Good to meet you Kyra,” she slapped her arm. “Welcome aboard.”

“She seems  _ nice _ ,” Kyra smiled wryly as Gelon trotted off and Kassandra came to stand with them.

“She’s a little...rough around the edges,” Barnabas scratched his beard, clearly a bit embarrassed. “But heart of gold!” he held up his hands. “Bit like Odessa really, no?” he shrugged and gave an overly optimistic smile.

“Heart of gold eh?” Kyra folded her arms.

“She keeps it well hidden a lot of the time I admit, but Thyia has softened her up a lot, don’t you agree Kassandra?” he turned to her and continued blithely. “I mean since you first brought her aboard?”

Kassandra could feel Kyra’s eyes on her and gave Barnabas a pleading look, but unfortunately she was pretty much on his blind side as he turned to look at Kyra.

“She used to bang on about being...was it the granddaughter of Odysseus...or the great granddaughter? Do you remember Kassandra?”

“Er no, not really, I didn’t really pay too much attention to the details,” she rubbed the back of her neck, grimacing a little. “That’s all water under the bridge now anyway.”

“Some sort of descendant anyway,” he shrugged. “She doesn’t bring that up so much anymore, I think she’s pretty settled here now. Terrible sailor at first, but she got the hang of it.”

“So,  _ you _ brought her aboard?” Kyra kept her eyes on Kassandra, who was shuffling a little and squinting out to sea as the ship eased away from the dockside.

“Indeed, one of Kassandra’s waifs and strays,” Barnabas laughed. “You helped her with her...sickly father wasn’t it?”

“Oh, he was definitely sickly,” Kassandra nodded, risking a glance at Kyra. “He looked on his last legs when I saw him.”

“How kind of you to offer her your services,” she replied blandly.

“Oh Kassandra is always offering her services,” Barnabas patted her brawny arm. “Doesn’t know how to say no, this one,” he laughed.

“So I’ve heard,” Kyra tilted her head. “Especially to pretty young women.”

“Well it often turns out that way for some reason, but Kassandra would have been just as eager to offer her services if it had been an old lady instead of an attractive young woman. Isn’t that right Kassandra?” he beamed.

Kassandra gave him a quick scowl but he seemed oblivious. Kyra was still looking at her pointedly.

“Yes,” she swallowed feeling herself blushing hotly. “Of course, age has never been a consideration really. Not when I’m...er…”

“Offering your services?” Kyra suggested, dryly.

“Yes, absolutely. You know, why don’t we go up to the prow and see if we can spot any dolphins?” she took Kyra’s elbow gently and began to lead her along the deck.

“I think you will be most impressed by our turn of speed,” Barnabas grinned, standing in the bow with them, hands on hips, breathing in the sea air.

“I’m sure I shall,” Kyra leaned on the rails and watched as the coastlines of the Silver Islands began to drift by and the rhythmic calls of the rowers filled the air. “I’ve never sailed farther than Delos.”

“Eh?” he turned, startled. “What, never?”

“No, I’ve never left the Silver Islands.”

I did not know that,” he seemed a little stunned. “Did you?” he looked at Kassandra. She shook her head.

“Is that an issue?” Kyra gave a puzzled smile. “Do I have to have amassed a certain number of nautical miles before I qualify for passage?”

“No, no,” he waved his hands dismissively. “In fact Odes…” Kassandra kicked him in the ankle and gave him a warning frown. “In fact...a good number of Kassandra’s ... _ acquisitions _ had never sailed before they joined us. I don’t mind telling you I was a bit dubious at first, some of the unlikely looking specimens she dragged back with her, but it always worked out in the end. We’ve only ever lost one outside of battle.”

“Lost one?” Kyra raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, and he got drunk and walked off the side in the dark, so that doesn’t really count,” he shrugged. “That could have happened anywhere...well anywhere on a ship obviously ...but on  _ any  _ ship. Well,” he threw his head back and filled his lungs, smiling as the sea spray gathered in his beard. “I’m going up to the helm. You enjoy the sea,” he patted Kyra’s shoulder. “There’s no mistress more beautiful,” he ambled off to the rear of the ship.

“That’s not technically true,” Kassandra said quietly, after a lengthy pause. “She’s perhaps the second most beautiful,” she bent and rested her elbows on the railing beside Kyra who was gazing out wide eyed as they approached the southern coast of Delos.

She drew her eyes away and looked at Kassandra. She was gazing besotted at her, a dreamy half smile playing about her lips, fine beads of spray glittering in her hair, her eyes warm and fond, and Kyra dismissed her earlier petulant jealousy. She glanced about her to see if they were being observed. 

There were crew members on deck but everyone seemed to be totally absorbed in their duties as they made their way along the channel between the islands and out towards the open sea. Emboldened, she leaned forward and pressed her lips softly against Kassandra’s, tasting salt and feeling her smile into the kiss.

“You know,” Kassandra whispered, drawing back a little. “Perhaps you’d like to have a look around our luxurious accommodations? The sea will still be here when we’ve unpacked.”

“It seems a little early in the day for what I think you’re suggesting,” Kyra smiled. “But we can certainly go and unpack.”

As they made their way along the deck, Kassandra glanced down, hopefully.

“I was wondering,” she began. “Seeing as you’re not the Archon at the moment and given that the crew all know you’re sharing my bunk? I was wondering if I might be allowed to hold your hand?”

Kyra failed to swallow her smile and Kassandra was pleased to see her face flush slightly, in a way that had nothing to do with the sea breeze, she suspected.

“I suppose that would be acceptable, whilst we’re no longer on Mykonos,” Kyra reached out and laced her fingers with Kassandra’s, smiling at her delighted grin.

“Hello young lovers,” Odessa sighed under her breath as they walked past.

“Oh stop it. I wouldn’t mind it if you held _ my _ hand a bit more often you know,” Thyia rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re like this. If it’s because you had a thing with Kassandra, well, we both had a thing with her. But you’re with me now, and if I’m honest, it’s not very flattering for me to see you acting jealous of her still,” she frowned, coiling a rope with more concentration than the task really warranted.

Odessa watched her quietly for a few moments.

“Thyia?” she said softly at last. “It’s nothing to do with you, you know that.”

“Isn’t it?” she glanced up briefly. “And how am I supposed to know that when you’ve spent more time bitching about Kyra than talking to me?”

“I just think it’s odd,” she leaned against the mast. “That Kassandra’s decided to settle down in Mykonos of all places, with her of all people.”

“That’s Kassandra’s business,” Thyia replied tartly.

“Well don’t you think it’s unlikely?” Odessa fumbled in her pocket and produced a pouch of slightly dry mint leaves, offering it to Thyia before taking some herself.

“No, I don’t,” she stood upright, frowning. “I haven’t thought about it before because, like I say, it’s Kassandra’s business, and now I  _ do _ think about it, I think it’s sweet.”

“Sweet?” she asked, puzzled, as she fished a woody fragment of stalk out of her mouth and flicked it towards the rails.

“Yes,  _ sweet _ , and don’t just flick your rubbish onto the deck, it’s a job enough keeping it clean,” Thyia picked it up and went to toss it over the side. “It’s about time Kassandra had someone to come home to...well it’s about time she had a home to come home to in fact.”

“ _ This _ is her home,” Odessa gestured about her.

“No, it’s our home!” Thyia challenged. “And even I don’t want to grow old here. Kassandra’s spent so long, helping so many people. She deserves to have a place to call her own where she can settle down in peace and relax a bit. And now she’s got someone she loves to do that with. So try being happy for her instead of being a bitch, because it’s not one of your more attractive qualities.”

“Now then, you two,” Barnabas strode over, attracted by the raised voices and confrontational body language. “What’s going on? We’ve not been out of dock fifteen minutes.”

“Lover’s tiff,” Odessa shrugged evasively.

“Hmm?” he frowned. “Well do that on your own time. What did the Commander say when she was assembling this motley crew?”

“You can all fuck whoever you like as long as it doesn’t interfere with the running of the ship,” Odessa replied.

“Well,” he gave a little gasp. “I’m sure she didn’t phrase it quite like that..”

“No, she did actually,” Thyia smiled apologetically.

“Right… well, yes, sometimes you need to be forthright and to the point to control a vessel of this size. There’s nothing to be gained by tiptoeing around things when you’re commanding a crew,” he muttered. “And lover’s tiffs while you’re sorting the rigging is going to get someone killed.”

“You’re quite right Captain,” Thyia nodded. “It won’t happen again,” she cast a meaningful look at Odessa.

“Fair point,” she conceded. “We’ll keep a tight rein on it.”

“Good, good,” his face softened. “Now,” he asked kindly. “What’s the matter with you two? I don’t like to see you squabbling, you’re usually so sweet together. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

They both looked at his hopeful, anxious face and began to laugh.

“No, thanks though,” Odessa shook her head. “I was being an arse and Thyia called me on it. And she was quite right,” she caught her hand and pressed a quick, tender kiss to her knuckles. “I’m sorry, my love.”

“That’s better,” he sighed, evidently relieved. “You two make up now and...well not now…later...And when I say make up...I was ...well...good...carry on!” he cleared his throat and bustled back off to the helm.

  
  


“I always forget how small it is really, until I’m in it with someone else,” Kassandra looked about the cabin with an apologetic air. “I mean with Barnabas, looking at the charts,” she added quickly, pointing to the table.

“That’s all right Kassandra,” Kyra shook her head. “The cabin is fine. I assume you spend most of your time on deck anyway?”

She nodded gratefully and watched as Kyra began to stow the clothes she’d brought with her.

“Where are you going to keep  _ your _ stuff?” she looked up. “Because it's certainly not meant for two people’s belongings.”

“I’ll just put them on top of the trunk, it’s fine,” she shrugged. “You can get another chest in here but I’ve never needed it. In fact,” she ventured. “There are a couple of bigger cabins, but Theis the healer needs one and...well Odessa and Thyia have been together for a while now, so I let them have the other. Thyia did offer to swap, but...I don’t know, it didn’t seem right,” she perched on the edge of the bunk. “It’s been theirs for so long now I didn’t…”

“Quite right,” Kyra gave her a reassuring smile and came to stand in front of her, easing her knees apart to slip between them and wrap her arms around her shoulders. “I don’t want to kick anyone out of what is, I suppose, their home. Not even Odessa. And certainly not Thyia who seems very nice.”

“She is,” Kassandra brightened. “She’s very nice, sweet natured. Reminds me a little of Europa sometimes, I think it’s perhaps because she loves animals maybe? I did wonder how she’d settle in aboard ship at first because the place she came from…” she suddenly realised that maybe she should enthuse a little less. “Anyway,” she cleared her throat. “She’s very good at managing the crew,” she avoided Kyra’s eyes even as she put her hands on her waist and eased her a little closer. 

“I take it she’s another one of your...acquisitions?” Kyra asked softly. When Kassandra didn’t answer for a few moments she placed a finger under her chin and raised her head to look at her.

“It’s fine,” she smiled. “I knew that you’d recruited a lot of them, Barnabas told me. And he told me that’s why most of them are as loyal to you as they are. It’s just...different seeing them all face to face. I...don’t know that I expected so many of them to be so pretty,” she mustered a smile and raised an eyebrow teasingly. “Zeus knows why, because I know you well enough.”

“Have you thought that maybe that says more about you?” Kassandra smiled, a little reassured. “You’re the one telling me how pretty they are. Should I be on my guard?”

“It might be a good idea not to leave me on my own with Basileos,” she winked.

“I suspected he might be your type,” Kassandra laughed, pulling her in close and looking up at her hopefully. “Is this all right? I mean all of this? Are  _ we _ all right?”

“We will be,” Kyra kissed her forehead softly. “When I’ve got the measure of them all. And when the floor stops moving,” she frowned, holding Kassandra’s shoulders a bit more tightly suddenly. “Is  _ this _ right?”

Kassandra laughed kindly and pulled her down onto her lap.

“Yes, it’s totally right, we’re out of the sheltered water now, the waves get a lot higher out here. It feels strange at first, no?” she gave her a comforting look. “But you’ll soon get used to it. We should go up on deck, get your last look at the Silver Islands for a little while.”

As they made their way up on deck Kassandra caught Kyra’s hand to stop her for a moment and bent low to whisper in her ear.

If you want to know how to get the measure of Odessa?” she saw Kyra’s dubious expression. “She has a thing about being the shortest member of the crew,” she grinned.

Kyra was quiet for a second and then laughed delightedly.

“So if I ask her if I can have a short talk with her?”

“She’ll go to pieces,” Kassandra laughed. 

Kyra was a little unsteady climbing the steps, she noticed, and she made her way to the stern with the studied gait of someone who knows they’re a little drunk and doesn’t want onlookers to notice. She placed a steadying hand in the small of her back and watched her cling gratefully to the rail.

“It will pass,” she said quietly. “By the time we reach Kephallonia you’ll have to learn how to walk on land again. Look,” she leaned down next to her, one arm about her waist, the other pointing out the receding coastline of Delos.

“It seems so strange,” Kyra breathed. “I’ve walked every foot of that coast and it looks so different from out here.”

“Over there,” Kassandra gestured past her on their right. “That’s Paros and if you look past it over there is Naxos.”

“Your mother’s island,” Kyra looked up at her. She looked a little pale Kassandra thought, her normal healthy shade of tan turning a little sallow.

“Not any more,” she smiled. “I assume Timo is still running things.”

“Myrrine’s lieutenant?” Kyra swallowed hard. 

“That was her _ official _ position,” Kassandra smirked, hoping to distract her from what she was sure was coming.

“Official?” Kyra swallowed again, looking paler by the minute as the deck heaved beneath them.

“Hmm,” Kassandra stroked her back. “Lieutenant by  _ day _ at least,” she winked.

Kyra gave her a double take.

“Your mater? And…” she stopped and smiled. “You’re teasing me to try and take my mind off the way this damn ship is moving.”

“Well I  _ am _ trying to distract you,” Kassandra conceded. But...I’m not teasing you. And, no,  _ do not _ ask me how I found out!”

“No?!” Kyra managed a brief, scandalized grin before going completely grey and pulling out of Kassandra’s arms to lean over the rail.

Kassandra watched sympathetically as Kyra threw up, noisily and copiously. She stepped closer to put her arm around her only to have Kyra try and push her away with one hand while still bent over the rail.

“Shush, it’s all right,” she eased Kyra’s hand down and moved in close to lift her hair out of harm’s way and hold it there with one hand while she stroked her back soothingly with the other. “Just get it out and you’ll feel a lot better...for a little while at least.”

Eventually Kyra took a deep shuddering breath and leaned forward on the rail with her head on her folded arms.

“Oh gods. I am so sorry,” she murmured.

“About what?” Kassandra comforted, rummaging in the pocket of her tunic and finding a relatively clean handkerchief. “You can’t help being sea sick.” she handed her the cloth. “Let me go and get you some water.”

She returned a few minutes later with a cup. At least they were just out of port and the water wasn’t stale yet she thought as she approached the stern and saw Kyra leaning over the rail again.

“I don’t think I like sailing,” she said miserably at last, sliding down to sit with her back against the rails.

“You’ll get used to it,” Kassandra sat down beside her and handed her the cup. “Just sip it or it’ll come right back up.”

“What am I going to get used to?” she glanced up, still pale, as Kassandra brushed a few strands of hair back from her brow. “The sailing or the vomiting?”

Kassandra pretended to give it a moment’s consideration as Kyra sipped the tepid water.

“Well the sailing I hope. Though I suppose it’ll be one or the other,” she laughed kindly.

“I’m sorry,” Kyra put down the cup and leaned against her. “That wasn’t very attractive.”

“It’s not your sexiest look,” Kassandra conceded. “But I love you anyway,” she sighed as Kyra scrabbled to her feet and leaned over the rail again. “If it’s any comfort I threw up for the best part of two days my first time aboard.”

It occurred to her even as she was saying it that it probably wasn’t all that comforting.

“I wasn’t standing next to you at the time though was I?” Kyra said when she’d finished retching.

“No, no you weren’t. Barnabas was holding my hair back,” she laughed. “Would you like to go for a lie down in the cabin. Let’s see if that helps.”

It didn’t much and by sundown Kassandra had sent for Theis the healer.

“Some people are just much more susceptible to it I’m afraid,” she stroked Kyra’s clammy brow. “I’ve some herbs that will help though” she took a casual step back as Kyra hurled into the bucket by the bed. “But from the look of things an infusion’s not going to be any use, you’ll just bring it right back up.”

“But can’t you do something?” Kassandra was hovering anxiously beside her shoulder.

“If you’d let me complete my sentence you’d have found out that I can actually,” Theis eased her back with her shoulder. “Gods Kassandra, it's a good job you’re never going to be a pater. Just stand back a bit, give the woman some air.”

“I’m fine Kassandra,” Kyra said weakly, not sounding in the least bit fine. “I actually feel a bit better now,” she just managed to finish before reaching for the bucket again.

“Theis!” Kassandra pleaded.

“Calm yourself,” she placed a steadying hand on her chest. “Go and get a clean bucket. I’m going to make those herbs into pellets. You can put one inside your cheek, let it work there. I’ll put something in to help you sleep and with a bit of luck the sea will calm soon...or you’ll get used to it. Give me a few minutes to work Kassandra, don’t come pestering me,” she held up a warning finger. “Sit with Kyra, try and take her mind off it.”

It was a good fifteen minutes before Theis returned with a small wooden box. Kassandra was sitting on the edge of the bunk with Kyra’s head on her lap, stroking her hair.

“I wondered what you were doing,” she looked up anxiously. “I was just about to come and find you.”

“Well that wouldn’t have sped up the process at all,” Theis pointed out, coming over to the bunk and feeling Kyra’s forehead. “Here you go sweetheart,” she fished a small flat greenish grey pellet out of the box and handed it to Kyra. “Pop that in your mouth, down between your gum line and your cheek and just leave it there. It will taste nasty at first but it’ll pass. As soon as that one has gone to mush you can either swallow it or spit it out, it’s up to you. After the first one has gone put a second in right away, you should start to feel sleepy, just give in to it, you’ll feel better after a nap.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Kassandra persisted as Kyra followed the healer’s instructions.

“Then keep using the herbs,” Theis smiled. “And try to drink some water when you can. I’ll pop back and see you later, assuming Kassandra doesn’t track me down and drag me back here before then.”

Kassandra hadn’t been entirely convinced when Theis left, but after the second pellet had been in Kyra’s mouth for a little while she felt her head relax on her lap and her breathing become steady and slow. Easing herself out from under her, she tucked a pillow under her head, placed a cup of water on the floor by the bunk and went out on deck.

Barnabas was standing in his usual post at the helm, beaming contentedly out over the waves, Odessa by his side, already making notes for the trip across the diolkos. His expression changed as he saw Kassandra approaching.

“How is she?” he asked, concerned.

“Sleeping,” Kassandra came to join them. She was half expecting a cutting retort from Odessa but she seemed preoccupied with her figures.

“Best thing for her,” she said, without looking up. “Anyway Barnabas? I don’t think the new crew members will slow us up noticeably. “Some of them have passed along the diolkos before. Gelon is going to split them up into units, each with some experienced men and some diolkos virgins. We’ll put one unit in each shift and barely notice the difference.”

They stayed above deck discussing the journey till the sun began to set. Kassandra popped back into the cabin periodically to check on Kyra and found her sleeping each time. She was back at the helm when Theis approached later.

“I’m just going to check on the patient,” she nodded as she passed.

“Don’t wake her up!” Kassandra protested, making to follow her.

“Who’s the healer?” Theis held up a hand and waited for an answer.

“You are,” Kassandra conceded quietly.

“Quite right,” Theis turned back towards the cabin. “It looks like it’s going to be a pleasant night,” she looked up at the sky. “And the sea is much calmer now. If it stays like this, bring her up to sleep on deck, the fresh air will do her good.”

“There go your plans for the night, Commander,” Odessa chuckled.

“Kyra’s not going to feel like any of those sort of plans tonight,” Theis turned to give her a look. “And weren’t you supposed to bring those clean bowls to my cabin, young lady?”

“I did…” Odessa began to protest and then winced. “Oh shit, no I didn’t, did I?”

“No, you did not, you’ve got till I’ve finished here or you’ll be stitching yourself up next time.”

Night had fallen and the moon was high in the sky when Kassandra made her way to the cabin with a steaming bowl in one hand and a small jug in the other. Kyra was out of the bunk, washing her face and looking better, if still a little pale.

“How are you feeling?” she put the bowl and jug down on the table and went over to give her a hug. “You look a little better,” she kissed her forehead softly.

“I feel a little better thank you, just a bit of a weakling.”

Kassandra snorted dismissively and led her to the table.

“Sit. I got the cook to make you some porridge and Theis said to try a bit of honey in it. You don’t have to eat it all,” she sat down opposite. 

Kyra seemed a little dubious initially, but after the first couple of mouthfuls she began to eat more enthusiastically.

“It seems steadier now?” she looked up and saw Kassandra smiling happily.

“It’s a lovely night actually,” she leaned back, feeling reassured. “I’ve taken some blankets up, we’re going to sleep on deck. Theis says you should get some fresh air.”

“Sleeping beneath the stars eh?” Kyra smiled, pushing aside the almost empty bowl. “Do you want to finish that? I do feel much better, I’m just full.”

Kassandra had eaten a bowl of fish stew, some bread and a couple of sweet pancakes a little earlier, but there was room for the meagre quantity of oatmeal left in the bowl she decided, cleaning it out before getting to her feet and holding out her hand to Kyra.

“It’s different on the ship at night,” she smiled. “I think you’ll like it.”

She wasn’t wrong Kyra decided as she stood gazing up at the endless expanse of midnight blue sky with its swathes of twinkling stars. During the day the ship was loud with the bustle of the crew and the singing of the oarsmen but now the only sound was the slap of the waves on the hull, the creak of the rigging and the occasional crack of the sail as the wind filled it.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, leaning in against Kassandra’s side.

“I know,” she bent and kissed her forehead. “Let’s go up to the prow. Sometimes, when the sea is calm like this you can see these little blue lights in the water,” she saw Kyra’s dubious look. “Not like magic or anything,” she shook her head. “I think they’re like little creatures, kind of like fireflies? But underwater.”

“Glow shrimps?” Kyra smiled, intertwining their fingers as they made their way along the darkened deck.

As they approached the bow they saw that someone had already beaten them to it. There was only one lantern lit here and it took them a moment to recognise that it was Thyia who had Odessa pressed up against the railing, her head bent to her lover’s bared breast.

“Oh!” Kyra whispered as she watched Thyia lower her gently to the deck.

“I think they’re a little far advanced for us to interrupt them,” Kassandra whispered, taking Kyra’s hand and turning them back. “We can go look from the stern.”

“Don’t they have a perfectly good cabin?” Kyra smiled. “The one we couldn’t take?”

“True, but sometimes it’s nice to make love under the stars,” Kassandra said softly. “Or have you forgotten?”

“No,” Kyra looked down at the deck as they walked. “I never forgot that Kassandra, even at the worst times, I never forgot that.”

As they approached the stern Kassandra unfastened a lantern from the helm.

“I don’t know why,” she hooked it over the railing. “But the light, I think it attracts them somehow. Come?” she held out a hand.

It was almost where Kyra had stood earlier that day, feeling as sick as she ever had, but as she took Kassandra’s hand and joined her, leaning on the top of the rail, it couldn’t have felt further away.

“I don’t see anything,” she peered into the inky waves.

“Patience, love,” Kassandra laughed softly, putting her arm around Kyra’s waist and pulling her close against the warmth of her body.

For a while Kyra saw nothing, and if she was honest, she didn’t really care. The night breeze was warm against her skin, the herbs and the bland oatmeal had settled her sickness, and Kassandra’s arm was about her, holding her tight against the solid strength of her body. She closed her eyes and rested her head against her shoulder, listening to the flapping of the sail, the soft creak of the hull.

She was almost dozing when Kassandra shook her gently.

“Kyra. Look!” she breathed as if afraid her voice might startle whatever she was gazing at.

Kyra followed her look and gasped. Streaming out behind the hull were two wide ribbons composed of thousands, hundreds of thousands of flickering pale blue lights. As she watched, they came together, broadening and spreading.

“Wait here,” Kassandra hissed excitedly, darting off, leaving Kyra gazing in wonder. She quickly returned with a length of thin rope and tied it to the hook of the lantern.

“Watch!” she grinned, lowering the lantern carefully down till it hung just a few feet above the surface. 

Kyra watched as sections of the ribbons broke off, swirling and gathering around the light before being dragged away by the passage of the ship.

“If we’re anchored, they will all gather round the light,” Kassandra whispered. “It’s as though they can’t resist it, or they think it’s another creature like themselves, I don’t know. I did lose a lantern overboard one night,” she grinned at Kyra. “Barnabas was not impressed. He thinks they’re sea nymphs,” she said quietly. “But, I’m sure they’re tiny creatures. Perhaps they’re there during the day and we just can’t see them? What do you think?”

“I think they’re beautiful,” Kyra laughed softly. “They’re...I think you’re right, they’re not magic...but this,” she raised her eyes and looked out at them swirling away in the ship’s wake. “ _ This _ is magical Kassandra. Thank you for showing me.”

“You’re welcome,” she looked a little sheepish as she hauled the lantern back up and hung it over the rail again. “I’ve wanted you to see them for a long time, but...well...you were never with me before. I’ve stood here many nights, imagining watching them with you.”

“I think I begin to see why you love this so much,” Kyra caught hold of her arm and eased it back around her waist, resuming her earlier position. “All of this. Are you sure you can give it up? Really?” she added, feeling a tremor of nerves fluttering in her chest.

“This?” Kassandra looked down at her. “This is only so beautiful tonight because you’re here to see it with me,” she turned a little and raised Kyra’s chin with a gentle finger. “And wondrous as it is, it all pales beside your beauty Kyra. I always knew that it would.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyra finds her sea legs, only to lose them again, but not for long.

When Kassandra had bent to kiss her, her already slightly salt chapped lips tender against hers, Kyra had fully expected her to deepen the kiss, to intensify their embrace. She imagined they would end the night making love here in the stern of the boat, just as Odessa and Thyia were loving each other not so very far away.

She’d begun to part her lips, to invite Kassandra in, but she drew back, gently breaking the kiss.

“You must be exhausted,” she said softly. “You’ve had such a long day and been so ill. Come, let me show you the bed I made for us. It’s probably more comfortable than the bunk to be quite honest.”

Kyra was almost disappointed as she led her over to the bedroll but as soon as she lay down amongst the pillows and blankets that Kassandra had amassed from somewhere, she realised how right she was. Snuggling back into Kassandra’s strong arms, feeling her solid warmth behind her, the gentle sway of the deck beneath her and with the creak of the rigging in her ears, she was asleep before she had the chance to wish her goodnight.

It was the sound of quiet conversation that woke her the next morning.

“Well they can’t stay here all day, it’s...it’s the helm!”

“And what does any bugger do here except stand and watch other buggers work? Let them sleep in, they look fucking adorable.”

She opened her eyes, wincing a little against the glare of the already blazing sun and saw Odessa and Gelon standing over them.

“And now you’ve woken them up with your filthy mouth, you see,” Odessa sighed.

“I don’t recall you objecting to being woken by my filthy mouth when we were stuck off the arse end of fucking Hydrea that time,” Gelon laughed, turning to Kyra before Odessa could form a reply. “Morning Kyra, sorry to wake you, you look a fuck of a lot better this morning. You looked like death’s arsehole yesterday, but you’ve got your colour back...mostly.”

“Thank you?” Kyra settled, struggling upright and brushing her hair back from her eyes as she heard Kassandra grumbling sleepily behind her.

“S’too early still...come back to bed my love,” she made a slow but determined grab for Kyra’s waist to pull her back down.

“Kassandra, it is definitely time to get up,” she hissed, catching hold of her hand before it could stray any further.

“Ah hem!” Gelon cleared her throat loudly. “Good morning to you, Commander!”

“Don’t distract her,” Odessa nudged her playfully. “Let the woman work.”

Kassandra sat up, blinking in the sunlight and peered bemused at their audience.

“What the hell are you doing in our bedroom?”

“What the hell are you doing sleeping at the helm?” Odessa folded her arms. “Not that you’re the first people to be asleep at the helm mind you, Barnabas is forever…”

“What am I doing?” his cheery voice rang out as he climbed the steps to the helm, stretching hugely and scratching his beard. “Oh look at these two, snuggled up like little kittens,” he beamed delightedly. “Are you feeling better this morning Kyra? You look much better. And Poseidon is showing you mercy today it seems. Gelon get below and tell them to put their backs into it, the wind is taking a day off by the looks of things.”

As Kyra got to her feet and went to sit on the bench at the rear of the helm, Kassandra rubbed her eyes blearily and began to gather up the blankets and replace the pillows on the seats.

“You’re up!” Thyia’s delighted voice made them all turn to see her trotting up to the helm with a steaming cup cradled in her hands. “You look a lot better today, Kyra, Theis sent you some warm ginger and honey,” she handed the cup over. “I don’t have anything for you Kassandra, sorry.”

“Ginger and honey?” Kyra sniffed the warm concoction.

“It’s for your…” Thyia hesitated and then shot a playful glance at Odessa. “Weak stomach,” she finished.

“Oh now,” Odessa grinned. “Don’t be like that! Eh Barnabas?” she turned to him, he was already giggling to himself.

“No,” he delivered the well worn punchline with a wink at Kassandra. “She was throwing it as far as she could!”

Kyra sat and watched the four of them standing laughing, very self indulgently, she thought.

“You three should be in the theatre,” she observed dryly, sipping the warm brew.

“Ah! Don’t be cross Kyra,” Barnabas wiped his eyes. “It’s a tradition.”

“They say that every time someone throws up,” Kassandra came to sit beside her and placed a discreet hand in the small of her back, stroking gently. “And I mean _every_ time.”

“No wonder you have it down to such a finely timed ensemble piece,” Kyra raised an eyebrow and rewarded them with a wry smile.

“It takes the sting out of it if you can laugh about it,” Thyia ventured.

“Yes, you need to be able to take a joke around here,” Odessa folded her arms with a smirk.

“That’s right,” Thyia watched her. “Remember how we all laughed that time off the coast of Lakonia, my love?”

“What time was that?” she frowned quizzically.

“Oh, you remember, the wind was really weird, it was like it was coming from all directions at once,” Thyia said innocently. “And you were as sick as a dog for a solid day and a half?”

“No..nooo,” Odessa shook her head. “I think you’re mixing me up with someone else there,” she gave her a meaningful look.

“No. No, I’m definitely not,” Thyia’s tone was thoughtful and reminiscing. “I distinctly recall you leaning over the rail offering your breakfast to Poseidon, when we hit a big wave and you went over head first.”

There was some quiet chuckling from Kassandra and Barnabas.

“See, _they_ remember!” Thyia said brightly. “And you were bobbing around in the water, yelling in a panic because you’d seen a dolphin and thought it was a shark?”

“Right, yes, that’s enough,” Odessa threw up her hands. “It’s an easy mistake to make when you’re in the water,” she shot a wary side glance at Kyra, who was observing her with quiet amusement over the rim of the cup.

“And then Theis gave you those herb pellets and told you to put them between your gums and your cheek and you misheard her and were putting them..”

“Right okay,” Odessa grabbed her hand before she could finish. “Look there, I’m pretty sure that’s us that the cook is waving at, let’s go see what he wants, eh?”

“And sometimes,” Kassandra bent and whispered in Kyra’s ear, “you don’t even have to make a joke about her height to rein her in.”

The next couple of days were clear and relatively calm. Kyra found that she was no longer aware of the rhythmic swaying of the deck. Theis’ herbs remained unused in her pocket and she found plenty to occupy herself by exploring the Adrestia and chatting with the crew.

As Seriphos came into view, however, the winds began to rise, slow and steady until the waves were crashing over the prow and the ship began to buck like an unbroken horse.

“I think you should go and have a lie down,” Kassandra suggested as Kyra bent over the rails again, remembering the first awful day. “Don’t lean too far, you don’t want to go shark spotting.” she advised quickly, grabbing a hold of the back of her tunic for safety.

“Perhaps I will,” she agreed reluctantly, standing upright and tucking one of the herb pellets inside her cheek.

Kassandra put a comforting arm around her shoulders and led her to their room where she tucked her in the bunk and placed a clean bucket and a cup of water on the floor beside it.

“I can stay if you really want me to,” she crouched and stroked Kyra’s forehead. “But I’d like to go lend a hand stowing the sail if it’s all right?” she ventured hopefully.

“It’s fine,” Kyra closed her eyes and swallowed, tasting the bitter juice of the herbs. It seemed strangely comforting now. “I’ll take a nap and then perhaps I can come and help?”

“Perhaps,” Kassandra sounded unconvinced. “Don’t worry about that though. Honestly I’d rather you stayed here in the cabin, where it’s safe. I’ll be back as soon as we’re done,” she bent and kissed her clammy brow. “Just try and relax, get a little sleep.”

As the second pellet softened to a sticky paste in her mouth and the ship rolled and heaved, groaning and creaking in the coming storm, she dozed off, her face against the pillow, breathing in the comforting scent of Kassandra.

A huge jolt awoke her some time later. The ship felt as though it had laboured up a hill and crashed down hard on the other side. The bucket and cup by the bed were tossed over and rolled to the side of the cabin, quickly followed by everything that had been on the table.

Startled, Kyra sat up, coughing a little as she swallowed the last gritty remnants of the herb mixture. She threw her legs over the side of the bunk at precisely the wrong moment, as the ship reared up again, tossing her out of the bed to go skidding across the floor, crashing painfully into the leg of the bolted down table.

For a moment she lay there winded and trying to get her bearings. Thunder was rumbling directly overhead and she could hear frantic yelling and shouting out on the deck. Kassandra was obviously still out there, no doubt in the midst of it, she thought, struggling to her feet and holding on to the table for balance as she made her way to the door.

No sooner had she turned the handle than the gale shouldered its way in, shoving back the door, striking her hard in the chest. She took a couple of reeling steps backwards and caught her breath before stepping out and making for the stairs.

Water ran down them like miniature falls and she clung onto the handrails tightly, climbing each step carefully, pulling with her arms and pushing with her legs, struggling against the terrifying motions of the ship. A huge, crackling bolt of lightning illuminated everything as she reached the helm, clutching hard at the rail and looking out over the deck.

Barnabas had himself tied to the railing with a length of rope around his waist as he bellowed unheard commands into the fury of the storm. And there, by the mast, was Kassandra.

Kyra’s heart lurched in her chest and the sickness she suddenly felt had little to do with the erratic rolling of the ship. Kassandra was standing, legs braced, struggling to keep upright as huge waves crashed over the deck. With one arm she was clinging on to the thick bands of rope secured around the base of the mast. Her other arm was tight around Thyia who was holding on to her neck for dear life as the rushing cataracts swept her feet from beneath her.

Kyra screamed Kassandra’s name into the heart of the tempest, feeling it spit her impotent cry right back in her face, as another roar of thunder almost deafened her. She squinted through the driving spray, salt stinging her eyes and saw Kassandra grinning like an idiot into the teeth of the gale.

She let go of the rail, swayed wildly for a moment and then set off towards the steps down to the deck. Before she could reach them, a strong hand grasped her upper arm and hauled her back.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Kyra turned and saw Gelon, face creased with concern and lined with strands of wet hair.

“Kassandra, I need to…”

“You need to get back in your fucking cabin is what you need to do,” she yelled into Kyra’s face, barely audible above the next flash of lighting and the instantaneous peal of thunder. “Kassandra sent me to check on you.”

“But she’s…” Kyra looked back over her shoulder. Kassandra was looking down, shouting something at Thyia and Kyra could swear she was laughing, the magnificent bloody idiot.

“She’s got it under control,” Gelon bellowed. “Trust her. Scylla herself could come and grab Thyia’s fucking feet and Kassandra isn’t going to let go. She’s not letting go of those bloody ropes either, and I put those fuckers there myself, they’re going nowhere.”

“Gelon, get off me,” Kyra tried to squirm free, but a lifetime of hauling sails had left her hard and strong.

“I admire your fucking balls, I really do,” Gelon’s grimace might have been a smile. “But Kassandra needs to concentrate, and she can’t do that if the woman she’s in love with is fannying around on deck in this bastard. Come on. She needs to think you’re safe,” she hauled Kyra back down to the cabin, putting a wiry arm about her waist to support her as they slipped in the foamy torrents slicking the steps.

They both had to lean against the door to slam it shut. Loud as the storm still was, it was muffled enough now that they no longer had to shout to make themselves heard.

“I can’t just sit in here doing nothing,” Kyra protested, fighting back angry, frustrated tears.

“We’re all doing fucking nothing right now!” Gelon threw out her arms. “Apart from Kassandra of course. She’s stopping Thyia from going arse over tit over the side. And just as well, because none of us want to be dealing with Odessa if her woman ends up as shark food. Barnabas? He’s standing there like a limp dick, shouting fuck knows what at fuck knows who, just to make himself feel better. And me?” she raised her eyebrows. “The only reason I’m above deck in this shit storm, is because your lover told me to make sure you stayed here. Where you’ll be safe. And I promised I would, so don’t make a fucking liar of me.”

Defeated, Kyra sat down on the bunk, much more heavily than she’d intended as the ship lurched.

“I know you feel like a fart in a hurricane right now,” Gelon staggered over to the bunk, swaying wildly to keep her balance. “We all do. You’ve heard the phrase batten down the hatches? Well that’s what we do when something like this hits. We batten down the fucking hatches, sit tight and wait for it to be over,” she leaned back against the table, one of the few immovable things in the cabin.

Kyra gave a heavy, shuddering sigh and fell back onto the bunk, her legs still hanging over the edge. She could feel nausea building again and looked around quickly for the bucket.

“You might as well throw up on the fucking floor now to be quite honest,” Gelon surveyed the chaos but brought the bucket all the same and held it steady as Kyra threw up.

“I get it, Kyra,” she stroked back her hair for her, surprisingly gentle. “You’re not the sort of woman who’s content to sit back and watch other buggers put themselves in danger. I like that. You must be good at your job,” she said thoughtfully. “But this will be over soon, there’s not a fucking thing you can do to help, and if you get washed over the side and drown then Kassandra’s going to think she’s done all that shit out there for fucking nothing. So don’t let her down. Have a couple of Theis’ magic puke nuggets and get your head down. It’ll all be over when you wake up, and then you can help with the clean up, cos that’s a bastard of a job.”

She stood and watched as Kyra reluctantly followed her instructions, nodding curtly at the small box when she hesitated over the second pellet.

“Good job,” she staggered over and lifted Kyra’s feet up onto the bunk. “Get your head down now, this fucker can’t keep this up for much longer...I hope,” she draped the sheet over her. “Your chum bucket is there,” she gave it a light kick, “and here’s some water in case you need it, though there’s no saying the bloody cup will stay here long with the ship fucking up, down and sideways like this.”

Kyra had intended to close her eyes and feign sleep until Gelon left but each time she glanced from beneath lowered lids she was still there, sitting on the table, swaying side to side with each roll of the waves.

The sound of movement in the cabin woke her. The chaos of the night was over, the ship rocking gently, the groaning and creaking of the hull a lullaby compared to the cacophony of the storm. And she could smell...vinegar? She opened her eyes, the cabin was warmed by the light of two lanterns and there was Kassandra, busily mopping the floor. She had her back to the bunk and was humming softly to herself. She’d already cleaned up most of the mess, the broken cups were gone, the charts and scrolls back on the table.

Kyra struggled into a sitting position and groaned as she felt the bruising to her ribs. The sound was enough to attract Kassandra’s attention.

“Hello, love,” she propped the mop against the table and stepped over the bucket of dirty water. “I was trying to mop quietly, sorry. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, fine,” Kyra shook her head, reaching for her hands as she came over to greet her. “Are _you_ all right?” she eyed her up and down. There was a graze on her cheek and a small gash at her hairline that had already been stitched. As she took her hands she saw an angry looking rope burn around her wrist, extending to her palm and the vision of her standing laughing in the face of Zeus’ fury came back to her, making her shudder.

“You didn’t sound fine,” Kassandra said dubiously. “Did you...wait, let me get rid of this mop. I’ve finished here now,” Kyra watched her stride, evidently unhurt, over to the mop and bucket, she disappeared outside for a few minutes, closing the door behind her as she returned.

“Now,” she strode round the table, frowning in concern. “Are you hurt? What happened in here?”

“Not much,” Kyra said evasively, hopping cautiously down from the bunk and stepping over to her. “You sent Gelon to babysit me?!”

Kassandra held up her hands in apology and gave a sheepish grin.

“I sent Gelon to wrangle you Kyra,” she laughed. “I figured she was the only one who could handle you. Plus everyone else had scarpered below decks as soon as we got the sail down.”

“Except for you, you bloody fool” Kyra pushed her in the chest. “What the hell were you doing out there?”

“Hey calm…” Kassandra quickly reconsidered her words as Kyra’s eyes flashed. “Sorry. We were stowing the sail, we’d almost finished, and I told the others to get to safety, then suddenly this bloody great wave swept over the side and caught Thyia. I thought we were going to lose her for a minute, her legs were right over the side.”

Kyra was suddenly struck by the realization that she hadn’t given a thought to Thyia’s well-being.

“Is she all right?” she asked, remorsefully.

“She will be,” Kassandra nodded, reaching out tentatively to place her hands on Kyra’s hips and ease her in closer. “She’s a bit knocked about and her shoulder’s out of its socket, but Theis is sorting that. She’ll be fine in a couple of days. Thyia is tougher than she looks.”

“Not as tough as you though, apparently,” she reached up and gently touched the new stitches. “Standing there, daring Zeus to strike you down, you idiot,” she swallowed hard.

“I was doing no such thing,” Kassandra caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “You wouldn’t have wanted Thyia to disappear over the side, would you? Odessa maybe,” she grinned teasingly, “but not Thyia, surely? And what were you doing out there watching me? Gelon was supposed to keep you in here, out of harm’s way.”

“So you could risk your life with impunity?” Kyra sighed. Kassandra’s braid was half undone, her tunic sticking to her skin and already stiffening at the sleeves and neck with drying salt. Would her lips taste of salt too?

“Well, now I come to think about it,” Kassandra smirked. “I suppose there’s no point being massively heroic if there’s no one there to see it.”

“You could have died!” Kyra grabbed the front of her tunic and shook her. “You could have been washed overboard while I was lying here in your damn bunk!”

“_Our_ damn bunk,” Kassandra corrected, resting her forehead against Kyra’s .”And I didn’t, no one did,” she smiled.

“You actually enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Kyra raised her eyebrows. “That whole performance, laughing into the gale, with a pretty girl hanging on your neck.”

“It was a little exhilarating once I was sure we weren’t going over the rails,” Kassandra admitted with a chuckle. “Snatching a lovely maiden...well, not a _maiden_ exactly...but snatching her from Scylla’s claws anyway. And I don’t see you rushing out to yell at Barnabas for lashing himself to the helm like a bloody fool.”

“I’m not in love with Barnabas!” Kyra snapped, grabbing the front of her tunic and dragging her down into a fierce kiss.

Her lips no longer tasted of salt, she realised quickly, just of Kassandra and a hint of the mint that she must have chewed earlier. No doubt Theis had washed her face before she’d stitched the wound.

Breaking the kiss she drew back slightly to look in Kassandra’s eyes. Despite the events of the evening, or perhaps because of them, there was a challenging twinkle there. The beginnings of a rakish grin formed as she spoke.

“So, does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Kyra decided to pick up the gauntlet, to accept the challenge inherent in Kassandra’s eyes, and smiled.

“Oh, not by a long way, Misthios,” she growled, lunging in to kiss her quick and hard, before nipping her lower lip sharply enough to taste blood. Sliding her tongue into her mouth she tasted copper and mint as she swallowed the hiss that her bite had provoked.

“I expect a much more fulsome apology,” she purred in her ear, licking the skin below it, tasting the dried salt there. Kassandra took a tight hold of her ass, effortlessly lifting her off her feet and turning suddenly to face the table.

“As you wish, Archon,” she growled before throwing her onto it with enough force that her head hit the surface with a light thump, sending a scroll rolling back to the floor.

Kyra spotted her immediately contrite expression and hauled her down into a messy kiss before she could derail the moment with needless apologies. Kassandra didn’t take much persuasion to continue, she was clearly still aroused and exhilarated by the events of the night. Kyra felt her fingers kneading hard at her breasts through the thin fabric of her chiton, her hip roughly parting her legs so she could stand between them, pressing Kyra down against the table as she moved her kisses from her mouth to her throat.

Kyra shivered at the feel of Kassandra’s teeth, at the ragged panting in her ear. She ran her fingers through her still damp hair, tugging loose the final failing inches of her braid and tossing the cord to the floor before taking fistfuls of her hair, dragging her back, wanting to feel the heat of her mouth against hers again.

Kassandra’s hands were clawing at her chiton now, pulling the skirt up about her thighs so she could part Kyra’s legs further, before hauling her into a sitting position and tugging at the shoulders. She felt something tear as Kassandra dragged it roughly down to her waist, baring her breasts. She was going to be asking Theis for a needle and thread come the morning, Kyra thought, tilting her head back, baring her throat, inviting Kassandra’s teeth again.

She was biting hard enough to bruise but for once Kyra didn’t care. There were no morning meetings. No Savina and Aegeus to blush and politely avert their eyes. No stuffy delegates to display careful rectitude before. There was here and now and Kassandra, the heat of her mouth and the strength of her fingers dragging slow and firm up her thighs. Kassandra and a ship full of people who no doubt already assumed that they were doing exactly this.

“Gods but you’re beautiful,” Kassandra groaned, winding a powerful arm about her waist, lifting her from the table enough that she could tug the skirts of Kyra’s chiton up around her waist, leaving only the folds of her perizoma between her blazing sex and the touch of Kassandra’s fingers.

She began to kiss down Kyra’s chest, licking wet and messy at her nipples, first one then the other, drawing one fiercely into her mouth and nipping hard enough to make Kyra hiss and press against her, the rough, damp fabric of Kassandra’s tunic scratching her inner thighs. As her hands dragged down Kyra’s torso she pressed against the forming bruise at her side, where she’d hit the table leg earlier. Kyra’s hiss this time was sharp enough for Kassandra to notice the difference and she raised her head to investigate.

“Do _not_ stop, Misthios,” Kyra growled, taking hold of her chin, turning her back to face her and running two fingers firmly across her lips before easing them inside, stroking the sharp edges of Kassandra’s teeth, feeling the warm, wet muscle of her tongue teasing between them, presumably a hint of what she had planned.

But Kyra didn’t want that tonight. Kassandra was tireless and thorough when she used her mouth, but Kyra wasn’t in the mood for tenderness right now. She caught her about the forearm, thrilling at the softness of her skin and the hardness of the muscles beneath it as she urged her hand towards her aching sex.

“I want you to see my face when you make me come,” she held Kassandra’s desire darkened eyes, heard the low growl she gave as she tugged aside the cloth of Kyra’s underwear and ran the calloused pads of her fingers along the length of her sex, once, twice before sliding between her slippery folds and entering her roughly with two fingers.

Despite her expressed desire Kyra found herself clinging to Kassandra’s neck at first as she pumped steadily in and out, adding a third finger after a few thrusts, making Kyra whimper with pleasure at the stretch.

“Hey,” she murmured huskily in Kyra’s ear. “I can’t see your face there, my love,” she raised her free hand and grasped her around the throat, pushing her head back and fixing her with a ravenous look. “Look at you,” she grinned wolfishly, squeezing gently, just enough to make Kyra’s head begin to swim, ratcheting up the building tension spreading from her cunt, down her thighs, up into her chest, making her pant.

“Now who’s laughing in the face of danger?” Kassandra shook her head smiling, before leaning forward quickly and licking wet and hot up her cheek. “You look glorious,” she reared back, let her eyes move slowly down the length of Kyra’s body, the movement of her breasts with every thrust of Kassandra’s fingers, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her breathing became more urgent, all the way down to her own hand, buried deep in the wet curls of her sex, the corded muscles of her forearm standing proud as she thrust into her hard and fast now, giving her the heel of her hand to rub against.

“That’s it,” she whispered, shifting to straddle her leg, grinding hard against it in time with Kyra’s shuddering breaths. “I’m watching you, now you watch me, keep those lovely eyes on me, watch me fucking you. I want to hear my name on your lips when I make you come, Archon.”

The words took Kyra over the edge, bucking hard against Kassandra’s hand, against the immovable strength of the thigh between her legs, clutching at the rough fabric of her tunic as she pulsed and shuddered around her.

“You are so beautiful, you really are,” Kassandra’s voice was a thick growl, muddied with lust as she released her hold on Kyra’s throat, caressing softly down its length, running teasing fingers down the valley of her breasts, the gentleness of her hand in stark contrast to her fierce rutting against Kyra’s leg. Kassandra kept her eyes locked on her, even as her lids lowered and her head rolled back as she came, wet and hot against Kyra's thigh, groaning her name as she at last quietened and allowed her head to fall to her shoulder.

For a while the cabin was almost silent, no grunting, no panting, no rocking of the table against its bolts, just the soft sound of their breathing slowing to normal. Kassandra was the first to speak. Raising her head from Kyra’s shoulder, she took a deep breath, smiling at the familiar, welcome scent of her sex between them. Keeping her eyes on her throughout, she withdrew her fingers with excruciating slowness, smirking as Kyra shuddered against her.

“So,” she lowered her eyelids, grinning roguishly as she held up her glistening fingers, fanning them a little to display the slippery threads of Kyra’s orgasm trembling between them. “Does_ this_ mean I’m forgiven?” she arched an eyebrow and licked them clean, slowly and methodically, hearing Kyra’s involuntary whimper as she watched.

“You...you are forgiven, Misthios,” she managed a smile, flopping back on the table and taking a huge breath. “Gods, Kassandra,” she closed her eyes and stretched her arms up above her head, arching her body towards her, as she eased out the aches of the night.

“You’re going to make me apologise again if you keep doing that,” Kassandra laughed, running her fingers lightly along her flanks, halting at her ribs. “Hey. What’s this?” she traced the reddening bruise with a feather-light touch.

“It was a movable Archon and an immovable table,” Kyra tried to sound dismissive, but she could see Kassandra’s brow furrowed with concern.

“No need to look like Orion,” she teased, reaching down and tweaking her nose playfully. Kassandra raised her eyes and gave her an affable enough smile, but didn’t seem entirely reassured.

“It will be fine, you just need to kiss it better,” she ran her fingertips softly along the sharp line of Kassandra’s jaw.

“I think it would be best if I brought Theis.”

“An interesting idea,” Kyra pretended consideration. “But I’d still rather you did it.”

Kassandra shook her head fondly, but all the same she bent and pressed her lips tenderly to the inflamed area before sweeping Kyra up in her arms and carrying her to their bunk.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyra comes dangerously close to asking to speak to the manager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not, Kephallonia hoves into view next chapter.

When she rose the following morning Kyra certainly knew that she’d been thrown into a table the night before. She downplayed it until Kassandra left to check for damage to the ship in the cold light of day. Once she’d gone, Kyra tentatively probed and stretched. Whilst her ribs were still painful, there was no grating or extensive swelling and it didn’t hurt to breathe. There was nothing to prevent her from going to help with the clean up.

She had had enough of wandering around aimlessly and sitting in the cabin and was determined to start to not just minimize her weight for the rest of the crew, but to begin to pull it for herself. She would start right now.

By the time they reached the diolkos she was pulling her weight quite literally. The first few days had been difficult. She’d seen the wary side glances as Gelon and Basileos taught her to haul the canvas and stow the ropes. But by the second week, as the coast of Korinthia drew into sight Thyia had successfully taught her a number of useful knots, which she could now tie almost without thinking. More surprisingly Odessa had, grudgingly at first, allowed her to climb to the top spars with her to help repair a couple of fixings for the rigging.

When she clambered back down to the deck, breathless and excited by her success, she found Kassandra waiting for her, hands on hips, beaming like a proud parent.

“Look at you!” she swept her into a hug, feeling how the muscles of Kyra’s shoulders and arms had already firmed after just a few days. “Perched up there like you were born to it!”

“Aye, the way we were swaying around I nearly yelled at you to go get a bucket and stand underneath with it,” Odessa hopped down from the footing of the mast and sauntered over. “But, no,” she gave Kyra a playful look. “You did all right...for a soft politician,” she slapped her arm before wandering off in search of a drink.

“I could see it from up there!” Kyra wiped her sweaty brow on the sleeve of her tunic and turned towards the shore. “The diolkos. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Because I don’t think there _ is _ anything like it,” Kassandra explained as they strolled towards the prow. “Not in the Greek world anyway. I’ve heard of incredible constructions in foreign lands, but…” she tailed off, squinting into the sun. “Now the hard work really starts,” she grinned, draping an arm across Kyra’s shoulders as the crew began to prepare for docking.

Having no knowledge of what was involved in heaving the ship ashore and preparing it for transport, Kyra had decided to keep out from underfoot and wait until the uncomplicated manual labour was required.

She made her way to a stall selling skewers of grilled meats and purchased two. The sea air and hard physical work made her ravenous and she was beginning to understand how Kassandra could eat like a bear without ever running to fat.

She’d devoured the first and was most of the way through the second by the time she passed the small stone building where Barnabas was negotiating their passage along the land route. Or at least he was trying to.

Hearing his outraged exclamations she stopped to listen, chewing the last of her food thoughtfully before tossing the empty skewer onto a rubbish pile and licking her fingers clean.

“How in the name of Poseidon can you ask that much suddenly?” Barnabas was protesting. “It’s not that long since we last passed through here and it’s always been two thirds of that!”

“Look, old man, everything gets more expensive,” she heard the foreman’s condescending tone and smiled to herself. “I wasn’t here the last time you passed this way, so I can’t speak for what the previous bloke charged you, but Korinth is demanding a bigger share of the coin, this place doesn’t maintain itself you know. We’re run off our feet here. You turn up without any warning, demanding passage. My men are exhausted from the last vessel. It is what it is, old man.”

The workers lounging outside, whistling at passing hetaerae and playing knucklebones hadn’t seemed particularly exhausted Kyra thought to herself.

“Leave it, Barnabas,” she strode confidently over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll do it ourselves.”

He turned towards her, eyebrows raised, blinking slowly.

“Kyra?” he ventured cautiously. “I’m not sure if you understand…”

“No, she doesn’t,” the foreman smirked. “Listen, young lady. I don’t know exactly what sort of services you provide aboard ship, but I’m sure you perform them very well,” he eyed her strong, tawny limbs and ran his tongue over his upper lip. “This is a totally different basket of fish though, my lovely. You need to leave the complicated technical discussions to the men who know what they’re talking about.”

Kyra felt Barnabas’ shoulder tighten beneath her hand. Her smile was razor cold as she gave a reassuring squeeze before sauntering over to the man’s desk and perching on the corner. Folding her hands in her lap, she fixed him with an imperious stare.

“I may not know anything about preparing a vessel for transport,” she reached out casually and picked up a chipped stylus from the desk, weighing it in her fingers. “But I do know that we have the knowledge and manpower to do it ourselves. It will take longer of course, much longer, which is why we were prepared to avail ourselves of your services,” she returned the stylus to its former position with a sharp click. “But if you aren’t open to negotiation we’ll accept the delay and do it ourselves. We can send men to Korinth to pay the toll directly, while we work,” she looked briefly over her shoulder at Barnabas who was standing open mouthed watching her.

“As I said,” she smoothed the skirts of her chiton over her thighs. “It will take much longer and we will be clogging up your transport route, but that can’t be helped. I’m sure any following ships will be prepared to wait until we’re done, it _ is _ the only land route after all, no?”

The foreman glanced nervously from Kyra to Barnabas, received a casual looking shrug and returned his anxious gaze to Kyra.

“We’ll be here for, what, a week? Sorting out the preparations, assuming that nothing goes wrong of course,” she tilted her head and smiled. “It will still be less time than it would take to sail around the coast I suppose, so I’m sure they won’t mind. What’s a week, sitting idle in the bay, compared to the alternative. Nothing, right?” she got to her feet and walked over to Barnabas, patting his arm.

“Let’s go and tell the crew, Captain. I don’t imagine they’ll be thrilled at first. Not until we tell them they’ll get the drachmae we’ve saved by not paying here,” with her back to the desk she gave him a wink.

“Oh! Yes, yes,” he nodded, as she took his elbow and led him to the door. “In fact perhaps if we give them a little advance and a night’s shore leave to recover their energy after our long voyage that would be an excellent motivator, no?”

“A wonderful idea, Barnabas,” she beamed. “There seems to be a lively looking tavern down the way, and I’m sure the hetaerae here are just as pretty and charming as…”

“All right, all right!” the foreman got to his feet scowling. “Look! I know exactly what you’re doing, you crafty bitch. You’re not half as sly as you think you are, but you _ do _ seem like the sort of stubborn, resentful whore who would actually do it, just to watch me suffer.”

“You watch your filthy mouth!” Barnabas turned on him, his good eye flashing fire. “Or I’ll come over there and teach you a lesson about respect. Then I’ll go and get Kassandra to test your learning.”

“What am testing?” Kassandra appeared in the doorway as if summoned, filling it entirely as she stretched and rested her hands above the lintel, dimming the room as she blocked the sunlight.

“Ah. Kassandra..._ my love _,” Kyra said pointedly, giving the foreman a sidelong glance. She strolled over to the door and placed a suggestive hand against Kassandra's upper chest. “This man here,” she heard his gulp from across the room. “Just called me…”

“A very shrewd negotiator!” he interrupted, sidling around his desk with an ingratiating smile. “My word but she knows how to drive a hard bargain!” 

The day was already warm and Kassandra had stripped down to a light tunic. He cast an anxious eye over her thick arms, their ridges and divots of silvery scar tissue, down to the powerful hand hanging loose as she draped an arm around Kyra’s shoulders. From there it was a very short journey to Kyra’s face, her arched eyebrow and cool smile.

Kassandra had no idea what was going on, she’d been on her way to look for Kyra when she’d heard her voice from inside the office and come to investigate. She was hugely surprised by her open demonstration of affection, but assumed it was a result of her more relaxed attitude while on ship. Whatever the reason she was delighted by it, putting an arm around her shoulders and smiling proudly.

“She certainly does,” she beamed. “You’d have to get up very early in the morning to get anything past Kyra.”

“Well,” he laughed nervously as Kyra slipped an arm around Kassandra’s hips and rested her head against her chest, still smiling. “I must have had a lie in this morning and forgotten about it,” he shrugged. “I was just explaining to your good Captain here, and to this charming lady, that it will take me a little while to assemble the men, but as soon as they’re gathered we’ll start work immediately and get rid of you...I mean get you on your way as soon as possible.”

Barnabas reached for the purse at his belt and was about to hand over payment when Kyra held up a hand and walked over to take it from him.

“Oh, come on, lady!” the foreman went pale. “My men have to eat.”

Kyra unlaced the pouch and poured a quantity of coin onto his desk.

“Half now,” she handed the pouch back to Barnabas. “Half when we leave. If the Captain tells me it was completed in good time then there’ll be no need for any deductions of course.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he called as they left. “Bitch!” he added under his breath.

“That’s our Kyra!” Barnabas laughed delightedly, as they strolled back to the ship. “He bit off more than he could chew there all right,” he nudged her.

Kassandra had taken advantage of Kyra’s evident good humour to hold her hand as they walked. She beamed proudly and bent to kiss her quickly.

“I don’t know what you did, but whatever it was, I’m not surprised,” she brushed her nose softly against Kyra’s.

“We should bring her on all our voyages,” Barnabas chuckled, tucking his thumbs in his belt and positively swaggering along the rutted stone pathway. “Tell me though, Kyra?” he turned his head to look at her. “How did you know he would cave in so quickly? Or cave in at all for that matter? If he’d tested your arm we’d have been here for ages lashing the hull.”

Kyra smirked and gave Kassandra’s hand a squeeze.

“His upper lip was sweaty,” she said, casually. “He was as nervous as a cat in a doghouse, Barnabas.”

“Really?” he frowned thoughtfully as Kassandra surreptitiously touched her upper lip. “Just as well I wear a beard then. Maybe you should grow one, Kassandra,” he grinned.

“You could carry it off I think,” Kyra gave her a wink. “Plus,” she added. “There was a hetaera by the food stall. We got chatting while I was waiting. Turns out there hasn’t been a large vessel through here in days and days. The men are getting restless, five walked out yesterday, headed to Korinth to look for work. If he had tested me and they’d seen us doing the work ourselves,” she shrugged, “they’d have stormed his office and beaten him to within an inch of his life no doubt. Maybe even a few inches further?”

“Hah!” Barnabas barked delightedly. “What did I say, Kassandra?” he patted Kyra’s shoulder. “She’s invaluable!”

“She certainly is,” she gazed down proudly at her. “_ I’d _ have ended up just kicking him off the dock or something.”

“That would probably have worked as well,” Kyra conceded.

“This was much more satisfying though,” Barnabas stroked his beard contentedly.

Naturally enough he couldn’t resist sharing the story later, as the Adrestia was prepared for transport. And just as naturally he couldn’t resist embellishing it a little as he recounted. With each repetition through the crew the story became a little more dramatic and outrageous, so that by the end, half of the rowers were convinced that Kyra had managed to get the foreman to pay her for the privilege of working.

By the time they were ready to haul, she was universally considered a crewmember, nevertheless there was still a bit of debate involved about whose team she was going to join. Kassandra had initially assumed it would be hers, but Kyra had demurred, fearful that it would look like favoritism. Odessa had thrown up her hands and announced that she already had enough diolkos virgins on her rope, so Basileos had eventually shrugged and announced that as his team probably weighed more than the others he could afford to carry a little slack.

As they broke for the night though he had changed his tune in her favour. There was a minor argument around the campfire as they ate, with the result that Kyra was moved to Gelon’s team.

“She’s good for motivation, and some of mine could do with a boot up them,” she grinned as Kassandra queried the decision. “She’s not let that fucking rope drop once today, I swear. She’s hauled like a fucking carthorse.”

“_ I _ haul like a fucking carthorse,” Kassandra brushed crumbs from her lap. “I don’t see you arguing about having me on your team.”

“No, because you’re a de-motivating bastard,” Gelon, helped herself to more stew. “They all know they can’t pull as hard as you. Kyra though, that feisty little fucker, Zeus bless her, no one wants to be outpulled by the fucking Archon!” she laughed. “Anyway, go and sort her hands out for her, she’s bound to have blisters on her fucking blisters and I want her in prime condition for tomorrow. So don’t be tiring her out tonight, I need her well rested.”

The roadside was littered with lamps and bedrolls. Kassandra had set their’s up a little way from the general crowd to at least give the illusion of a bit of privacy. When she approached, Kyra was gingerly unwrapping the strapping from her hands. There was a lantern nearby and it provided enough light for her to see her pained grimace, even though she quickly hid it as she heard Kassandra walking over.

“How are you feeling?” she rubbed her shoulder gently before sitting down cross legged in front of her.

“Tired,” Kyra smiled. “You’re right. This _ is _ hard work.”

“_ Just _ tired?” she asked softly, catching her hands.

“Stiff,” Kyra conceded. “But not as stiff as I will be in the morning I don’t suppose.”

“No, I’m not going to lie to you. The first hour will be hellish. Here, let me look at these,” Kassandra gently removed the last of the wrapping. “Not as bad as I was afraid,” she gave her a comforting smile. “But sore, no?”

“A bit,” Kyra shrugged, dismissively. “They’ll toughen up. It’s too much desk work.”

Kassandra had anticipated this and fished in her pocket. She produced a small vial, holding it up with a smile and pouring a little of the contents onto her handkerchief.

“I have something that will sort these out, it’ll sting like a son of a bitch for a moment, I’m sorry. But then they’ll feel so much better afterwards, I promise.”

Kyra winced a little as she dabbed at them, but shrugged off Kassandra’s apology.

“Keep going,” she nodded. “If it smarts like this it must be doing some good, right?”

“First time I traveled further than Ithaka, not on the Adrestia, long before that, someone used this on me,” she frowned, holding Kyra’s hand a little closer to the lantern to see better. “I’ve always had some in my cabin since. Still don’t really know what it’s made from though,” she laughed.

Blundering footsteps interrupted them for a moment as two burly rowers wandered by, wishing them a good evening as they passed. Kyra noticed Kassandra’s smirk as they disappeared off into the bushes.

“What’s the smile for?” she asked, hissing as she dabbed at another blister.

“Nothing,” Kassandra shook her head. “I just didn’t know that those two were interested in each other.”

“Eh?” Kyra forgot her discomfort for a moment as she turned her head to look where they’d gone. “Aren’t they just going to relieve themselves?”

“In a way, I suppose,” Kassandra laughed. “Give me your other hand. They don’t usually go in couples to commune with nature,” she cocked an eyebrow.

“I...oh!” even by lamplight she could see Kyra’s blush. “I did notice there seems to be a lot of it...well…going on...” she tailed off.

“It’s the first time people have been off the ship for a while,” Kassandra put the vial and cloth back in her pocket. “It’s cramped and stuffy in there after all, as you’ve learned. A bit of space, the fresh air, the stars above,” she smiled. “It’s understandable, no?” she moved to sit beside her.

“I, well, yes,” Kyra was still blushing. ”I’m not disapproving exactly, it just...surprised me. So..how do you avoid a whole nursery full of boat babies?” she leaned against her.

“Silphium, same as hetaerae,” Kassandra explained. “But it's not as much of an issue as you might think actually. I don’t know if you noticed, but there are a lot more men in the crew than women.”

“I had noticed,” Kyra yawned widely. “I just hadn’t considered.._ .that _…” she nodded in the direction of the bushes.

“They don’t need the silphium,” Kassandra stage whispered.

“I know that, thank you,” Kyra nudged her sleepily. “I _ do _ know how to make a baby.”

“Pleased to hear it,” Kassandra kissed her forehead softly. “I wouldn’t like to think you’d been worried about that all this time.”

If it hadn’t been for the sudden tension in her body, Kyra’s silence might have made Kassandra think she’d fallen asleep.

“Are you all right?” she glanced down. “Do you need me to get something for your shoulders? Theis has this stuff, it's a bit smelly but it works well.”

“No, no,” Kyra shook herself. “I begin to understand now why you have a more _ relaxed _attitude towards privacy than I do,” she shuffled down to lie with her head in Kassandra’s lap.

“Well, privacy on board pretty much means turning a blind eye,” she stroked her hair. “I have seen a_ lot _ of shit, let me tell you!” she laughed.

“Just so you know,” Kyra snuggled down further. “We will not be requiring anyone to turn a blind eye. Tonight or any other night.”

“No, I rather assumed that was the case, even if you weren’t too sore to contemplate it. So that’s one more reason to get to the other end of this damn road as quickly as we can, eh?”

  
  


Kyra had rather assumed something herself. But to her surprise when they did reach the opposite coast and the Adrestia was lowered into the water, creaking and complaining, they didn’t set sail right away.

Some time later she was sitting in the helm with Barnabas, sipping wine and looking at the stars when she asked him why.

“Well, first of all, everyone is tired, they need a bit of a breather, time to settle back into things,” he explained, watching as a shooting star streaked across the dim horizon. “And so does the old girl. You saw how much water she lost while we were getting her ready, and the first day we were hauling? She needs to get that back on board, soak it up if you like. We’ll set off first thing, don’t you worry.”

“How long till we reach Kephallonia do you think?” she asked quietly.

“With good winds, four days maybe,” he considered. “Perhaps a little less if they put their backs into it for us. It’s a straight, uncomplicated route, nothing between us and all those goats now except deep, open water.”

“Are you excited?” he ventured after a while. “To see where Kassandra grew up, at last?”

“Oh..yes...of course,” Kyra sounded unconvincing.

Barnabas stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment or two.

“You know sometimes Kassandra gets her feelings mixed up,” he saw Kyra’s puzzled expression and continued. “Most often it's that she thinks she’s angry about something when really she’s just hungry. So I usually just shove some salt fish or something in her hand when I hear her shouting, and if she’s still shouting afterwards or if she throws it at someone, then I know she was really angry and we deal with that.”

“Interesting,” Kyra sounded confused. “I hadn’t noticed that, but then she’s kept pretty well fed around the villa.”

“Well sometimes she _ is _ just angry of course,” he conceded, taking a mouthful of wine. “I only mentioned it because I wondered if _ you _ were getting your feelings mixed up perhaps? Because, if you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t sound excited so much as...nervous?”

“No,” she began to defend herself but caught the kindly look in his eye. “A little maybe,” she admitted. “I don’t really know what she’s told them about me, about us, and they’ve known her a lot longer than I have. I think I’m just worried that they won’t like me?”

He gave a dismissive snort and patted her knee affectionately.

“Of course they’ll like you. I like you. Kassandra likes you. And we both like everyone on Kephallonia...well, almost everyone,” he frowned thoughtfully, then recovered himself. “But why wouldn’t they? You’ll like Selene, she’s a very fine woman, she can seem a little reserved at first, but she has a kind heart, very nice woman, she’s been like a mother to Kassandra.”

Kyra wasn’t sure how reassuring that information was on reflection.

“And Phoibe?” she asked quietly, staring into her cup.

“Phoibe!” he grinned. “You’ll love Phoibe. That girl is a little treasure, smart as a whip, interested in everything, she adores Kassandra and no wonder really, considering. She’ll love you, Kyra, don’t look so worried. She likes everyone, I think she even likes Markos to be honest, and no one else does. The man’s a raging arsehole...pardon my language,” he held up an apologetic hand. “But he is. Of course, he gave her a roof over her head, kept her fed, but it takes more than that to raise a child. He hadn’t the faintest idea and you couldn’t tell him a damn thing by the sound of it. You know, one time he..”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Thyia came hesitantly up the steps, looking a little apologetic.

“Not at all,” Barnabas put down his empty cup. “What can I do for you?”

“No, not you actually Captain, I wanted a word with the Archon, if that’s all right?”

“_ Kyra _, remember?” she nodded.

“Well, actually I want to talk to you as the Archon?” She leaned back against the railing. “If that’s all right?”

“Of course?” Kyra replied cautiously.

“Well,” Thyia took a deep breath. “Some of the crew asked me to come and talk to you. It's about us being a part of your fleet?”

“Now, Thyia,” Barnabas held up a hand, “we had a meeting about this and everyone was given the opportunity to leave if that was what…”

“No, no, it's nothing like that. It's the fact that we’re going to be spending a lot more time on and around the Silver Islands. Some of us were wondering...well...if we’re going to be there more often, for longer stretches? We were wondering perhaps?”

“Get to the point, girl,” he sighed, “we’ll be casting off before you’ve said what you want to at this rate!”

“It’s all right, Thyia,” Kyra held up a silencing hand to Barnabas and gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t mind Barnabas, his back’s aching. Just ask your question. I can only say “no”, right?”

“Yes,“ she fiddled nervously with her eyepatch and Kyra found herself wondering, not for the first time, what she looked like without it. “Well...we’re not your soldiers, right? And we don’t want to be,” she added quickly. “So they didn’t want me to use the word barracks, so I’m not going to say it, but we were wondering if there was any chance that there could be somewhere, on the Islands, where some of us could stay, for some of the time, not anything fancy, it's just that sometimes it would be nice to sleep in a real bed, make our own meals, keep a dog, grow a few vegetables. It wouldn’t be all of us, some crew definitely prefer to stay on the ship, but…”

“So somewhere a little barracks-like but definitely not a barracks?” Kyra smiled kindly. “For on-shore leave for crew members?”

“Exactly,” Thyia gave a nervous nod, watching as Kyra pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“Well. It would have to be split across the two Islands I imagine, depending on how many crew are likely to use it, but, no, I don’t see why not. We’ve got plenty of time before we get back, why don’t I mill around a bit, chat with the crew, see what they’d like and how much of it is do-able?”

“See?” Barnabas grinned, “that wasn’t so hard was it. We could even lend a hand with construction you know, Kyra. We helped build two silos after all, it couldn’t be more difficult than that surely? I mean they were _ round _.”

“And tall,” Thyia nodded. “Thank you, I’ll let them know. Anyway, while I’m on a roll,” she looked over at him.

  
  


Gelon, Odessa and Kassandra were sitting in the prow together, a jug of wine between them, a lamp burning low beside them and fragments of honeyed tagenites scattered on the deck before them.

“Psst!” Odessa nudged Kassandra sharply as there was movement around the base of a water pail a few feet away. Drawing her arm back Kassandra swiftly tossed the dagger she was holding and was rewarded with a brief, startled squeak.

“How many’s that now?” she grinned, tugging the dagger back by the thin cord she’d tied to the hilt. “Nine?”

“Eight!” Gelon corrected sharply. “And you stop spotting for her, you fucking cheat,” she gave Odessa a nudge.

“How is that cheating?” she protested as Kassandra tossed the dead rat onto the growing corpse pile. “Neither of us two had a sight line on it, and we _ are _ supposed to be killing the bloody things.”

“I don’t know,” Gelon shrugged. “It just seems cheatery to me. Ah, you little fucker,” she launched her own blade just as Thyia ambled up.

“Zeus’ sakes!” she hopped back, as it thudded into the deck an inch away from her foot, a dying rat twitching spasmodically on it. “Eurgh, gods,” she grimaced. “Must you, really?”

“Are you all right, my love?” Odessa made a half hearted attempt to get to her feet and fell back down.

“Fortunately,” she frowned, as Gelon retrieved her knife. “I could do without a stab in the foot as well, I’ve only just got my shoulder right.” She eyed the pile of dead rats. “Do you have to do that, really?”

“How else are we going to catch them?” Kassandra reasoned.

“Well, couldn’t you just, I don’t know, chase them off?”

“With what?” Gelon frowned. “Harsh fucking language?”

“You’d definitely be winning then,” Odessa chuckled, refilling her cup. “A drink, love?” she held it out to Thyia.

“No, thank you, I suspect you’ve had enough for both of us,” she arched an eyebrow, still eyeing the rat pile. “What are you going to do with all these dead rats?” she sounded wary.

“That’s the best fucking part,” Gelon laughed. “We’re going to stick them on arrows and…”

“We’re going to bury them at sea, my darling,” Odessa punched her hard in the leg.

“You are such a liar,” Thyia sighed. “And make sure you get washed properly before you come to bed tonight,” there was a truncated squeal as Kassandra skewered another rat.

“You’re making me fall behind, my love,” Odessa rolled her eyes.

“I _ knew _ you were making a game of this, you’d better not be wagering on it!” Thyia stepped out of the way as the corpse was reeled in. “I’ve a good mind to go and tell Barnabas what you’re up to,” there was a chorus of sarcastic “oohs”.

“Look we have to get rid of them,” Kassandra drained her wine. “The damn things are shitting everywhere. That barley porridge yesterday? I heard what Basileos was saying, but that was just to stop the rowers complaining, those _ weren’t _ currants!”

“It’s the same every time we use this bloody road,” Gelon grumbled. “We come here clean as a fucking whistle, two days in, rat shit everywhere, I swear the fucking things are just lining up waiting to come aboard.”

“That’s a good point actually,” Thyia said, suddenly bright. “I wanted to ask you a question Kassandra,” she waited till she’d refilled her cup and drunk half. “Can we get a cat?”

There was a low groan from the other three.

“It would save us having this happen every time we use the diolkos,” she pointed out reasonably. “And it’s sort of traditional to have a ship’s cat, no?”

“Well there’s not very much else about this fucking ship that’s traditional,” Gelon shrugged. “But sitting here next to a pile of these bastards, I’m beginning to wonder if she doesn’t have a fucking point. I could be working on my quilt instead of sitting here, up to my arse in dead rats.”

“Your quilt?” there was a general murmur of surprise.

“Yeah, I’m making a quilt,” Gelon said defensively. “What of it?”

The others exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Look,” Kassandra drained her wine and wiped the blade of her dagger against her boot. “I’m not on board all that much these days. You need to ask Barnabas,” she evaded.

“I did,” Thyia grinned, “and he said I had to ask _ you _. So? Can we have a cat, Kassandra?”

“Do not cave in to her puppy dog eye, Commander,” Odessa warned. “There are enough pussies in our cabin as it is.”

Thyia gave her a deeply reproachful look.

“You know,” Kassandra got to her feet and began to toss the dead rats over the side. “Just because you said _ that, _ Odessa, I’m going to let Thyia have her cat. But _ you _,” she pointed at her. “Have to look after it. Take a look for one when we get to Kephallonia.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you reading this and thinking "This HAS to be a mainly fishbone chapter because there's no way Hoff even remembered the existence of the diolkos" I'll have you know...that you're completely correct.  
If it had been left up to me they'd have been six months getting back to Mykonos, Kyra would have been ousted in her absence and they'd have found Savina chained at the feet of some sweaty overlord like slave girl Leia, and that would have been a very different story.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Adrestia finally reaches her destination. Last stop Kephallonia, please disembark, do not forget your luggage.

“Are you feeding that cat perfectly good shrimp?” Sophitia glanced over, unable to conceal her amusement.

“Naturally,” Phoibe shrugged affably. “I wouldn’t be feeding her bad ones! She likes shrimp.”

“She likes mackerel as well, she had it away with a whole one while I was setting up first thing. I’m surprised she’s got room for any shrimp.”

“That was then, this is now,” Phoibe explained, sucking the meat from a shrimp head as she watched a small fishing boat bump into the side of the dock, and a skinny man with a poorly maintained moustache scramble ashore.

“Oy, girl!” he barked.

Phoibe chewed thoughtfully on the shrimp head for a moment before looking around her theatrically.

“I’m talking to you, girl. Has no one ever told you to respect your elders?”

“Has no one ever told _ you _ that you only get one chance to make a first impression?” she spat the denuded shell into the water.

“You’ll get the back of my hand if I hear any more of your lip, girl,” he menaced. “Where’s the whorehouse on this dump?”

Phoibe was already unimpressed as she gave him a narrow look. She was well aware that Selene and the others often used the term themselves, but it was an entirely different thing having some random stranger with a ropy moustache come wandering up and say it. Especially in that tone of voice.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “But I do know where the hetaerae live, if that was what you meant?”

“Hetaerae?!” he scoffed. “That’ll be the day. _ Hetaerae _ in a run down trash heap like this. Kephallonia! It’s like the gods shook the Aegean and all the shit settled down here.”

“Funny I’ve not seen you here before then,” she tossed a shrimp to the cat, who had also been observing the newcomer with a disapproving expression.

“What did I just tell you, you little bastard?” he advanced, scowling.

“Is this man bothering you?” Sophitia had been busy serving a customer, but now she stepped between them, her razor sharp cleaver dangling from her hand with menacing casualness.

“A bit,” Phoibe shrugged, glancing up at her.

“Is this insolent little brat yours?” he glowered. “Because she needs to learn some manners. Any more of her lip and someone’s going to kick her bony little arse clean off the dock.”

“Why don’t _ you _ try it?” Sophitia slapped the flat of the blade against her meaty palm. “She can go bobbing for your sorry cock whilst she’s in there, because it’ll be the next thing that follows her.”

“Well, I see where she gets it from now,” he sneered, but Phoibe noticed that he took a couple of steps back all the same. “Where’s the whorehouse?”

“I could tell you, _ friend _,” no one had ever loaded the word with more disdain. “But I should warn you that you’ll be wasting your time. Kephallonia’s whores have much higher standards than I imagine you’re used to.”

“I’d cut off my own dick before I’d put it in anything I could find here,” he rolled his eyes.

“Let me get you a blade,” she smirked. “I have a wide selection.”

“What did you want to know for then?” Phoibe spat more shell towards the water and watched as a gull plunged to intercept it.

“Not that it’s any of your damn business, you little gutter rat, but I have a message to deliver to one of them. A...Serena...was it?”

“Selene?” Phoibe suggested, tickling the cat’s ears.

“Yes, that sounds right,” he nodded curtly. “Some weird woman gave me a handful of drachmae to pass on a message.”

“What’s the message then?” she fished another shrimp out of the bowl and began to peel it with exaggerated care.

“What’s it to you?” he peered around Sophitia to look at her.

“I live there, I could deliver it for you,” Phoibe suggested, though she was sorely tempted to see him go toe to toe with Selene.

“Well that explains a lot!” he laughed, without much humour. “And why should I trust you? What’s to say that you won’t spend the rest of the day lurking around here, picking pockets and forget about it?”

“You know, I’m beginning to think that you could stand to lose your tongue as well as your miserable manhood,” Sophitia advanced. “And why would you care either way? You’ve still got your pocketful of drachmae.”

“Because some people still have a sense of honour,” he retorted. “Not to mention, what happens if I run into that big hulking brute again and she finds out that I didn’t deliver her message?”

“Which big, hulking brute?” Sophitia raised an eyebrow.

“The mad bitch who leapt off her ship and came swimming over to me just the other side of Ithaka,” he gestured out to sea. “Nearly had my damn boat over. And all to tell me to say that she’s on her way. They’ll find that out soon enough when she gets here, won’t they? Still, if she wants to throw her coin away.”

“What was her name?” Phoibe scrabbled to her feet, suddenly grinning.

“How in Hades should I know?” he protested. “I just wanted rid of her before she capsized the bloody boat!”

“Was she really tall?” she came over to stand beside Sophitia.

“Gods’ sakes, girl, how would I know?” he rolled his eyes. “She was half in the water. Big though, youngish, scary looking, covered in scars and a...what do you call it?” he gestured vaguely about his shoulder. “A plait, sort of thing.”

“Kassandra!” Phoibe couldn’t prevent a little jump of excitement. “Where is she?”

“A bit closer than she was when I left her, I imagine,” he said sarcastically. “Anyway your picky Kephallonian pornai had better batten down their hatches, because I don’t know whether she’s coming looking for trouble or a good time, but I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of either.”

“You know, if you’ve simply lost the will to live, friend, and you’re trying to provoke me into cracking your little head like a crab shell, just say so,” Sophitia ran her thumbnail along the blade of her cleaver.

“Phfft!” he blustered. “The guards would be here before you could bring your knife down.”

“No guards in Sami, my friend. We look after ourselves here.”

He turned a little pale and retreated a couple of steps further.

“Right, well, why don’t you run along now girly? Tell your Serena that some giantess is looking for her? You should be able to see her sail soon, I imagine.”

Phoibe began to clear up the remains of her second breakfast, kicking the empty shells into the water and tossing the last shrimp to the cat, before returning the empty dish to the counter.

“Is this place yours, then?” he tucked his thumbs into his belt and cast an appraising eye over Sophitia’s stall. “Nice little place. Bet you do good business, eh?”

“And what’s that to you?” she eyed him narrowly.

“Do you want to buy some oysters?” he cocked his thumb back in the direction of his shabby boat.

Sophitia’s bark of humourless laughter was loud enough to make one or two bystanders turn and look.

“I wouldn’t piss on your fucking oysters! Sorry, Phoibe,” she apologised quickly.

“No problem, “ she grinned up at her. “Neither would I. Thank you for the shrimp. I’m going to tell the others that Kassandra is coming.”

Smiling fondly, Sophitia watched her sprint off up the path, occasionally interrupting her run to skip happily, before disappearing from sight at the corner.

  


In Phoibe’s absence, business talk was taking place in the kitchen. Clio was not particularly satisfied with the direction of the conversation.

“Why does he always ask for me?” she rolled her eyes dramatically. “He’s such hard work.”

“Presumably he feels he gets his money’s worth, love, that and your natural charm,” Iva smirked. “I tell you what, why don’t I lend a hand?” she added, more sympathetically.

Clio didn’t give the suggestion much consideration. “No, my love, we won’t be doing that. I might rope in one of the others though, seeing as how it's his birthday. I’ll ask Antiva, she has the patience of a rock.”

Phoibe’s signature footfalls in the main room distracted them all at this point.

“It’s Kassandra!” her excited call preceded her arrival in the kitchen. “Kassandra’s coming!”

“And there’s someone who’s never needed an extra pair of hands,” Clio chuckled.

“Though she’s not one to turn down the offer,” Iva grinned and received a warning look from Selene as Phoibe hopped onto the chair next to Clio.

“She’s here now?” she asked.

“No, no, not yet,” Phoibe took an apple from the dish on the table and gave it a quick polish on her tunic before taking a huge bite. “Some really rude bloke with a sad moustache was on the docks, he’d come with a message,” she mumbled wetly, caught Selene’s eye, chewed and swallowed before continuing. 

“She was just round Ithaka, he said,” she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “She swam over to his boat to tell him to say she was nearly here.”

“Unusually considerate,” Clio smiled. “Given that I once came back from the market and found her in my bed with no advance warning.”

“I don’t know,” Iva was carefully peeling a peach, well on her way to skinning it in one strip. “That sounds pretty considerate to me.”

“Did he say how far out they were?” Selene closed the door firmly on that line of conversation. Getting to her feet she went and took a few coins from a small box in a cupboard, pushing them across the table to Phoibe.

“No, but he said we’d be able to see the sail soon,” she pocketed the coins and accepted a slice of peach from Iva. “You want me to go ask the smith to heat up some water?” she hopped off her seat and made for the door. “When I get back, will someone help me beat my bearskin?”

Clio found herself the subject of warning looks from Iva and Selene and rolled her eyes.

“Really?! I wasn’t going to touch that question!”

“I meant my _ bear _skin,” Phoibe sighed and rolled her eyes. “The skin of the bear. I’ve had it on the floor for the past few nights, it's been too warm to have it on the bed. It's not dirty exactly, just a bit...crumby.”

“Well I spent the morning beating the rugs,” Clio protested. “So I think I’ve already done my bit.”

“Yes, inadvertent good timing on your part,” Selene observed dryly.

Clio gave a dismissive snort. “As though Kass has ever concerned herself with the state of the rugs! Well the ones downstairs at least,” she gave a thoughtful smile.

“I’ll give you a hand, little one,” Iva interrupted quickly, handing Clio a slice of peach, with the aim of shutting her up. “Give me a shout when you get back.”

Later as she helped Phoibe roll up the big skin, Iva realised just why a second pair of hands were required.

“Gods, Phoibe,” she got to her feet with a groan. “This thing is huge!”

“You should have seen it when it was still full of bear,” she wiped her forehead as they propped the rolled pelt by the door and surveyed the rest of the room.

“I’m rather glad I didn’t,” Iva picked up a chiton which had fallen off the end of Phoibe’s bed and folded it neatly. 

All told she’d made a reasonable effort to keep the room tidy, she thought. There were a couple of scrolls on the floor, presumably Phoibe had laid on the skin to read them. A few sheets of papyrus had drifted off the table as they struggled with the pelt. Bending to pick them up, she noticed the picture Phoibe had been drawing.

“This is very good,” she examined it.

“Thank you,” Phoibe took the other sheets and shuffled them into a neat stack before sliding them under the bed. “It’s not finished yet.”

“I see that. Kassandra has no armour?”

“No, not yet. I wanted to see her new armour first and draw that,” Phoibe wiped her hands on the skirt of her tunic. “It must be really good for her to have mentioned it.”

“But _ you _ don’t have any either?” Iva perched on the end of her bed and looked carefully at the drawing.

“Well...no…” she shrugged awkwardly. “They don’t make such little armour really. I’ll have to wait till I’m bigger to get armour.”

“You could have imagined some for yourself,” Iva looked up. “I mean you’ve imagined this ferocious monster here. At least I assume you’ve imagined this? Unless you’re going to tell me Kassandra has fought something like it?” she asked warily.

“No, not that she’s told me anyway,” Phoibe hopped up to perch on her table. “I dreamt that and it seemed like a scary thing, so I thought it would be fun to draw. She’s fought lions though,” she beamed proudly. “And lots of snakes. She brought me a skull one time, the fangs are huge! And a lion’s paw,” she glanced around the room quickly to see if it was close to hand. “The claws go in and out just like a little cat’s, but massive.”

“But still no armour?” Iva smiled softly, handing back the drawing.

“No,” Phoibe said quietly, looking at the picture thoughtfully. “I don’t need armour, Kassandra’s there, she’ll protect me.”

There was a lengthy silence as she gazed at the picture. Eventually Iva took a breath and spoke.

“It’s been a long time since her last visit. She must have been very busy, getting her mater and brother settled. I expect that took a lot of her time. It must have been strange for her.”

“I know,” Phoibe carefully put the drawing down on the table beside her. “It’s weird to think about really. I’d got used to the idea that...well that she didn’t have any real family and now…”

“She’s had a real family for a long time I think, Phoibe,” Iva gave her a comforting smile. “I don’t think that you need to worry about that. After all, her letter said she’s decided to live on Mykonos, not back in Sparta.”

Phoibe didn’t respond for a moment, her eyes remained fixed on the half finished drawing, carefully unblinking. At last she took a quick breath and hopped down off the table, avoiding Iva’s look.

“I’m not worried,” she gave a brave smile as she walked over to the bearskin. “It’s just been...well it seems like a long time since she was here.”

  


“Damn it!” Kyra fumbled the binding of Kassandra’s braid for the second time. “Wait,” she lightly slapped away her hands. “Let me start over again.”

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to do it?” Kassandra could feel the slight tremor in her fingers. It had been there since Thyia’s surprisingly loud announcement some time earlier, that Kephallonia was in sight.

“No, let me. I’ve got it now,” she was frowning in concentration as she began over.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Kassandra said softly, reaching up over her shoulder to touch fingers.

“Says the woman who’s been pacing the deck like a caged wolf for the past hour,” Kyra gave an unconvincing laugh.

“That’s excitement,” Kassandra grinned. “And...maybe a little bit of nervousness,” she added quietly. “It’s been too long since my last visit, I realise that now. I’m worried Phoibe is going to be a bit upset with me.”

“Perhaps fleetingly. Until she sees you in your new armour,” Kyra smiled, tying off the end of the thin cord she’d used to bind her braid. “There you go,” she placed her hands gently on Kassandra’s shoulders. “The finishing touch,” she bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You look suitably heroic now.”

“And you look beautiful, as always,” she got to her feet and pulled Kyra into a careful hug, wary of the unyielding, heavily tooled bronze of her breastplate.

Somehow Kyra had managed to pack a simple but flattering chiton and keep it remarkably uncreased throughout the voyage.

“I suspect I’m going to have to keep a close eye on the eager menfolk of Kephallonia once they see you,” Kassandra grinned.

“I’m quite capable of dislocating the odd wrist myself if necessary,” Kyra laughed. “But thank you for your consideration all the same.”

“Should we go up on deck?” Kassandra asked, unable to keep the eagerness out of her question. “We can watch our approach.”

Kyra took a slow, steadying breath and nodded, without meeting her eyes.

“Really, love,” Kassandra slid her hands down Kyra’s arms, tracing the work hardened muscles and took her hands. “Everything is going to be fine. Try to relax and enjoy not being the Archon for a few days. You can just be yourself.”

“I’m not entirely sure that I even remember who that is anymore when I’m not the Archon,” Kyra said quietly, frowning a little. “It seems so long ago now.”

“I didn’t fall in love with the Archon of the Silver Islands,” Kassandra gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She could see that Kyra was making a valiant effort to appear calm and collected but she knew her well enough to recognise the anxiety in her eyes, the slight furrow between her neatly groomed brows, the hint of tension at the corners of her mouth. She was moved by the tell tale indications of her nervousness, if she was honest. 

Kassandra had seen Kyra in combat, facing down enemies twice her size without flinching. She knew that she regularly dealt with arrogant petitioners and diplomats rash enough to underestimate her because of her youth and sex. But here she was, struggling to overcome her anxiety at meeting Kassandra’s “family”.

“I love you, Kyra,” she stroked her cheek softly with the back of a finger, before raising her chin gently to meet her gaze. “I’ve loved you almost from the moment you missed my nose with that dagger.”

“On purpose,” Kyra mustered a smile. “If I’d wanted to hit you, we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“So you say! Still, the moment I realised that you’d done it whilst you were downing a cup of wine! Well, my heart was lost,” she touched her forehead against hers. “You can be that Kyra again for a little while, if you like.”

“Are you really suggesting that I get drunk and launch a knife at someone?” Kyra’s laugh was genuine now.

Kassandra pretended consideration for a moment.

“Perhaps save that for if we meet Markos.”

“_ If _ we meet Markos?” Kyra arched an eyebrow. “Is he not going to be the highlight of the trip?”

“Gods, I hope not,” Kassandra laughed, catching her hand and leading her to the door. “We’re in a sorry way if Markos is any sort of highlight. I only say _ if _because, oddly enough, he’s often quite hard to lay hands on if he knows Barnabas is ashore.”

Outside, on deck, there seemed to be deep discussion going on. Barnabas, Gelon and Odessa were standing off to the side of the helm surveying the approaching dock with expressions of dissatisfaction.

The Adrestia was a sizeable vessel to berth at a relatively small dockside and there were already a number of smaller trading and fishing vessels moored, loading and unloading. A midsized, slightly rickety looking boat with a faded blue hull seemed to be the focus of everyone’s attention.

“It’s that cheeky bastard with the red beard again!” Gelon was squinting, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. “I swear it’s every fucking time we come. Does he just live here, or what?”

“What’s up?” Kassandra strode over to investigate, Kyra close behind her.

“Oh, Kassandra!” Barnabas jumped a little. “I thought you were below...look at you!” he took a step back. “You look magnificent!” he threw wide his arms, beaming proudly, as he took in the sun glinting off the polished bronze of the finely worked breastplate and bracers, the deep wine-red tunic and chlamys. “Wait till young Phoibe sees you in that!”

“Well, your legs certainly look magnificent,” Odessa folded her arms and raised her eyebrows as she ran her gaze down the length of Kassandra’s body, lingering over the deeply slit tunic beneath the burnished leather pteruges. “Aphrodite’s blessings upon whoever chose that belt with that tunic,” she smirked.

“That would be Kyra,” Kassandra grinned, draping a heavy arm about her shoulders.

“Indeed!” Odessa gave a moue of consideration. “Clearly we’ve got more in common than I thought,” she winked at Kyra. “Beyond the obvious of course,” she gave a cheeky nod in Kassandra’s direction.

Kassandra felt Kyra’s shoulders tense a little beneath her arm and was grateful, if a little surprised, when Gelon provided a distraction. She’d been surveying the dock with a sour expression throughout this and now was unfastening her belt, with every indication that she was about to undress.

“Gelon?” she grabbed the diversion with both hands. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get that saucy bugger to shift his bloody boat,” she waved a hand towards shore. “Look at the way he’s fucking berthed! There’s no need for him to be taking all that space for his shitty little crab boat, or whatever the fuck it is.”

“Ah, yes, yes,” Barnabas grabbed her arm before she could make for the railing. “An excellent idea in principle, but perhaps we should send someone a little more...diplomatic?” he ventured. “Didn’t you talk with him last time?”

“Indeed she did!” Odessa laughed, leaning on the rail looking out with amusement. “And I think the fact that she called it a “shitty little crab boat” to his face and then threatened to kick a hole in the hull, is why he’s making no move now, even though he clearly sees us. I’ll go, shall I?” she glanced over her shoulder at Barnabas.

“_ Diplomatic _, I said,” he shook his head.

“Ah, right, so you did,” she nodded thoughtfully before turning her gaze towards Kyra. “I think he must mean you...Archon.”

“I meant nothing of the sort, and you know it,” Barnabas gave a scandalized gasp and held up an apologetic hand in Kyra’s direction. “The very idea, indeed!” he shot a venomous glance at Odessa, who remained totally unchastened. “And not you Kassandra, either!” he noticed her edging towards the railing. “You’ve just got into your nice, clean armour and done your hair.”

At this point everyone simultaneously spotted Thyia emerging from below decks, humming happily to herself. At the sudden chorus of her name she looked up and saw them all waving frantically at her.

“So, you want me to swim over there and politely ask him to move along to one of the smaller moorings?” she clarified once Barnabas had given her the gist of things.

“Ask him nothing,” Gelon scowled. “I think you should just _ tell _ him to shift his filthy, leaky tub or we’ll shift the bloody thing for him, with our bow!”

“See, that’s why we aren’t sending you over,” Barnabas shook his head and watched as Kassandra offered Thyia her arm for support as she removed her sandals.

“Just swim over and ask him nicely to move,” she took a step back as Thyia pulled off her clean tunic and gave it a cursory fold. “Use your natural charms.”

“Excuse me?!” Odessa gave her a sharp look.

Kassandra ignored her and offered Thyia a hand as, down to her underwear, she clambered atop the rail.

“There we go,” she smiled approvingly as Thyia steadied herself. “He’ll think Tethys herself has emerged from the deeps to crave a boon,” she noticed that she was receiving remarkably similar looks from both Odessa and Kyra and cleared her throat. “Just ask him nicely to move out of our way. We aren’t paying him though, mind!”

“In drachmae _ or _ in kind!” Odessa frowned.

“That will do, thank you,” Thyia looked back over her shoulder at her. “I know how to get a man to move his vessel. His _ fishing _ vessel,” she clarified, seeing Odessa’s disapproving expression. “Hold my clothes and keep your opinions to yourself for a few minutes,” she took a deep breath and dove elegantly over the side.

They all stood at the rail watching her swim over.

“I tell you what,” Gelon observed as she watched her cutting through the small swells. “She can’t half move for a little bugger.”

“She has strong legs. Short maybe, but surprisingly strong,” Odessa smiled.

As the others concentrated on Thyia’s progress, giving a little cheer of approval as the fishermen helped her aboard, Kyra was peering hard, scanning the dockside. It was difficult to make out much detail at this distance, and if she was honest she had no real idea who she was looking for. Selene, she knew was tall and blonde, but she’d no idea if she would even come down to the docks to greet them, did she usually? Would she even consider that appropriate?

If it came right down to it, she wasn’t entirely sure what Kassandra had told them of their relationship. Or about the reason behind their visit for that matter. It was far too late to be asking questions now of course, she thought, glancing over at her. Kassandra was leaning on the rails, waving encouragement at the other boat, seemingly without a care beyond getting the Adrestia to dock.

Kyra on the other hand could feel her nerves tightening. During her time with the rebellion she had crept into enemy placements knowing that the slightest misstep could result in death. Hers and others. She’d faced down opponents twice her size whilst heavily out-armed. As Archon she could command the attention of whole rooms full of men who had entered minutes earlier expecting to meet a malleable girl. As Kassandra’s lover she could bring the powerful and infinitely more experienced Misthios to her knees with a word or a look.

Now she stood on deck, within swimming distance of the island where Kassandra had grown up, and her mouth was dry, her palms so sweaty that she had to surreptitiously wipe them on the skirts of her chiton. This was different. She wasn’t going to meet enemies, opponents, rivals. She was going to meet the people Kassandra considered family. And she couldn’t intimidate, seduce or outmaneuver them. Nor did she want to. She wanted them to see her as the woman Kassandra loved. The woman she had chosen to devote herself to. She wanted them to understand her decision. She wanted them to like her. And for all her skills, both martial and diplomatic, she was scared.

She took a couple of carefully casual steps to stand beside Kassandra, close enough to brush against her arm and feel the comforting warmth of her body beside her. Feeling her touch, Kassandra glanced down briefly and smiled, clearly preoccupied by the events on the other vessel. 

“There we go,” Barnabas beamed happily. “She’s got him on side now.”

“She’ll have him on his fucking back, if she keeps that up,” Gelon laughed as they watched Thyia place a hand on her hip, her pose coquettish as she threw her head back, laughing.

“What the hell is he doing now?” Odessa frowned, very prettily Kyra had to admit, feeling an unexpected cocktail of sympathetic recognition and wry amusement at her obvious jealousy.

“Having a drink, I think,” Barnabas peered intently. “Yes, they’re having a drink,” he beamed. “He’ll move it now, no problem. Just like I thought, it only needed a gentler hand,” he seemed oblivious to Odessa’s disapproving grunt. “Ah, look, she’s laughing again. He must be an amusing fellow, Gelon, I don’t know what _ you _ were doing wrong,” he found himself the object of a collective look of disbelief from all three women.

Some minutes later as Kassandra leaned over the side to extend a helping hand to Thyia, hauling her aboard, blowing hard but grinning, Odessa seemed considerably less amused than the others.

“He’s not so bad,” Thyia glanced about in vain for something to dry off with. “If you like beards,” she settled for air drying. “Which I don’t, obviously,” she gave Odessa a playful glance. 

“I don’t see him moving,” she grumbled.

“Give him a minute, love,” Thyia leaned in to her side. “It’s going to take him a little to get things in motion. He asked me to meet him at the tavern later, by the way.”

“Excuse me?!” Odessa’s eyebrows shot up.

“Naturally, I said I couldn’t possibly commit to such an arrangement without consulting my lover,” she slipped her arm through Odessa’s. “And he said that was no problem, you should come too.”

“Look at that,” Gelon grinned. “Not even ashore and you’ve already got company for the night.”

“Thyia already has company for the night, why don’t you go instead? Maybe you just got off on the wrong foot with him,” Odessa scowled.

“There we go!” Kassandra quickly leaned in between them. “He’s moving. Let’s get over there.” She caught Kyra’s eye and smiled. “Soon be on dry land, my love,” she slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick reassuring hug.

As they drew close to the dock and began preparations for tying up, Kyra noticed that their approach had attracted some interest. Whether it was the arrival of a well armed trireme or Kassandra’s return that had drawn the attention, she couldn’t say, but there were a number of heads turned in their direction.

Kassandra, predictably enough, was racing around, casting ropes and yelling encouragement. Barnabas noticed Kyra standing by the steps, looking anxious and came over to stand beside her, close enough that their arms touched.

“Sometimes it’s best to just let her run around for a bit,” he gave her a reassuring smile. “Burn off some energy...like a puppy,” he added. “She’s excited.”

“Yes. Everyone seems a bit excited,” she observed. “Well, apart from Odessa perhaps.”

“She’ll be excited when she sees Phoibe again,” he laughed, casting his gaze about the dock as they pulled in with a gentle thud.

Before Kyra could ask the question that was on her mind, it was answered for her as she heard a high, excited, girl’s voice yelling Kassandra’s name. She followed the sound to its source and saw a gangly, sun browned young girl, in a simple blue-grey tunic barreling down the dock towards them.

She turned to look at Barnabas. His kindly face was creased with delight and he gave her a pat on the arm as he chuckled.

“Here she is!”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyra runs the gauntlet of meeting the "in-laws" and Kassandra isn't really much help at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, there's a cart load of OCs again. If they're new to you because you haven't read any of my older stories, don't worry, imagine that you're Kyra

Selene glanced up from the accounts she was working on and looked over at Phoibe. She was making a half hearted job of sweeping the yard, clearly preoccupied with anticipating Kassandra’s arrival. Really she was just rearranging the dust now. Selene sighed and shook her head fondly. She put aside her work and was just about to tell Phoibe to leave it and go wait for the ship at the docks when a bright call from the main room distracted her.

One of the net menders, on her way home, had stopped by to tell Phoibe that the Adrestia was docking. Selene watched as she dropped the broom, hastily picked it up again and then looked guiltily around the yard.

“Leave it for now, little one,” she smiled. “Perhaps you can persuade Kassandra to give you a hand with it later? Whoa, stop right there,” she held out a hand as Phoibe made to race past her. “Go and wash your hands and face first,” she pointed back out to the pump.

“But Kassandra won’t mind,” Phoibe wheedled, to no avail.

“Never mind what Kassandra will, or will not mind,” Selene took her shoulder and led her back outside. “I don’t want you running around town looking like no-one cares for you. Wash!” she wet her own hands at the pump and tidied her hair for her.

When Phoibe emerged a few minutes later, looking a good deal cleaner, she set off full tilt towards the docks, almost bumping into the potter as she skidded around the first corner. By the time she was hurtling down the slope heading for the waterside she was running almost too fast for her feet. The Adrestia was docked by now, looming over the smaller vessels beside it, crew members bustling about the deck. 

There, standing at the head of the gangplank, hands on hips, gazing about her, was Kassandra. She looked magnificent Phoibe thought, the sun glinting off polished bronze armour, her broad shoulders draped in a rich, deep red chlamys. Her heart leapt in her chest in a way that had nothing to do with her exertion. She had just enough breath to yell out her name.

Thankfully Kassandra had loped down the plank to meet her, because there was no way Phoibe would have been able to stop without assistance. She thudded into her with enough force to send her stumbling back a step and threw her arms about Kassandra’s hips, clutching tight, pressing her face against the warm, unyielding metal covering her waist.

“You came!” she tried to swallow the sob in her voice. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Kassandra eased her arms away enough that she could squat down on her haunches and wrap her in a tight hug, one powerful arm around the girl’s body, the other hand cradling the back of her head as she felt Phoibe’s hitching gasps against her neck. She allowed the hug to extend for a minute and then took a deep, steadying breath.

“Hey there,” she drew back enough to look at her. “No crying,” she wiped her cheek with a rough thumb. “I’m here now. I’m sorry it’s been so long, Phoibe.”

“It’s all right,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and smiled broadly. “You were busy. I understand. This is great armour by the way. You look fantastic! Who did you loot it from? Someone pretty wealthy eh?” She was looking forward to drawing this!

Kassandra laughed delightedly and Phoibe’s heart skipped a little at the sound. Her memory could conjure up any number of aspects of Kassandra, but to actually hear her laughter again made her want to throw her arms about her and never let go.

“I didn’t steal it,” she grinned, patting her cheek. “And no one had to die for it. I’ll tell you later.”

At the sound of voices calling her name Phoibe stepped back from Kassandra and looked up to the deck.

“Hello Odessa,” she waved. “And Thyia! Hey Odessa, can I see your scar?”

“My scar?” Odessa frowned, leaning over the rail, grinning. “Oh! My scar!” she made to turn and reached for the hem of her tunic.

“Absolutely not!” Thyia slapped her hand down. “She’ll show you later, Phoibe,” she called.

Familiar footsteps on the wooden ramp attracted her attention and she turned to see Barnabas striding down with a bag in each hand. He dropped them beside Kassandra and grinned broadly as Phoibe leapt into his arms.

“Hello, little one,” he held her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You look very well.”

“So do you,” she kissed his cheek fondly and whispered in his ear. “Thank you for bringing Kassandra.”

“I promised I would,” he put her down carefully and ruffled her hair. “I will see you later. I want to know everything that’s been going on since we were here last.”

Phoibe watched him ambling back aboard and cast a curious eye over the ship. Perhaps this time she wouldn’t be left standing on the dock when they sailed away, biting back tears as she waved them off. Perhaps this time she would be walking up on deck with her own bag in her hand in a few days time. She gave a cheery wave to Gelon, who was leaning over the rails watching her fondly. Casting about for Basileos she noticed a strange crew member at the head of the gangway. 

She seemed dressed oddly for working aboard, she thought, her chiton was simple but quite elegant and the fabric was far too good for scrambling about wet decks. Perhaps they had a new healer, she wondered? 

She didn’t have the physique of a healer though, Phoibe observed, noting her tautly muscled thigh through the slit in her skirts. Her arms and shoulders were more archer than medic as well. She was certainly very pretty indeed, she decided. No doubt one of Kassandra’s new recruits. Clio had once pointed out how very attractive many of Kassandra’s crew members were, and while Phoibe didn’t think for a minute that was the overriding reason she chose them, she was beginning to think that it certainly didn’t hurt their chances.

The way the woman was looking at Kassandra was a bit of a give away too, she smiled. There was definitely something going on there. She shook her head, laughing to herself and bent to pick up Kassandra’s bag.

“Wait a minute Phoibe,” she stopped her. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet first.”

Phoibe wasn’t in the least surprised when she turned towards the woman and extended a hand, nor when she called her “love”. Yes, she smiled to herself, definitely a “personal recruit”. The woman didn’t walk with the casual swagger of a regular sailor either, there was an elegance about her gait that reminded her a little of Selene.

“This is Kyra, my…” Kassandra tailed off abruptly and Phoibe gave her a curious look. It wasn’t like her to be bashful about introducing a woman as her girlfriend. Had she not quite sealed the deal yet, Phoibe wondered? Judging by the way this Kyra had been looking at her, it was surely only a matter or time. Perhaps a few days aboard on her own would soften her up? She watched the awkward creasing of Kassandra’s brows for a second or two before taking pity on her.

“Hello Kyra, it’s nice to meet you. Are you new aboard?”

“In a way, yes,” Kyra nodded. “I’m definitely new to sailing,” she had a pretty smile, Phoibe thought and a nice voice. She could definitely understand Kassandra’s interest, if not her hesitancy, but then she didn’t generally get to meet the women who had proved to be resistant to her charms and she presumed that they must exist. She’d called her “love” though? That was weird if they weren’t girlfriends yet, surely?

“It’s lovely to meet you at last,” she was still talking, so Phoibe returned her attention to her. “Kassandra has told me so much about you, it’s good to be able to put a face to the stories.”

Really, Phoibe thought? She wasn’t aware of Kassandra ever using anecdotes about her as a weapon in her seductive arsenal. But then again, beyond being handsome, charming and muscular, Phoibe wasn’t really sure what her seductive weaponry consisted of. 

She’d tried to get to the bottom of it with Clio one day. She could generally be relied on for candid information on matters sexual, so long as Selene wasn’t around. But on this occasion she’d assumed an uncharacteristically wistful expression, become thoughtful for a few moments and then told her that it was difficult to explain and that Phoibe would understand when she was older. If there was one “explanation” that frustrated her more than any other, it was “you’ll understand when you’re older”. If she was old enough to ask the question, she was old enough to hear the answer, surely?

Recalling herself to the present she found that Kyra was looking at her with a hopeful, expectant expression. Kassandra had certainly never mentioned her, so this was a little awkward. She shot a sidelong glance at her. She was looking, equally hopefully, from Phoibe to Kyra and back again. Best not to scupper her chances by saying that she’d never heard of Kyra, she decided.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” she settled for repetition, not really knowing what else to say under the circumstances. She’d have to have a word with Kassandra later. If she was going to use entertaining anecdotes about Phoibe in an attempt to woo beautiful women, the least she could do was warn her in advance. She noticed Kyra shoot an inscrutable look in Kassandra’s direction. “I’ll see you again, hopefully,” she gave her a bright smile and reached for Kassandra’s bags.

“I’ll take Kyra’s, thank you Phoibe,” she took the newer looking bag from her and slung it casually over her shoulder. “Why don’t you run on ahead and tell Selene that we’re coming?”

Phoibe stopped in her tracks and eyed her quizzically.

“_ We’re _ coming?” she frowned, watching as Kassandra took Kyra’s hand and laced their fingers, smiling affectionately. That was a girlfriend move wasn’t it, she thought, confused?

“Yes,” she shot a quick glance at Phoibe. “Tell her that we’re right behind you.”

“We?” she cocked her head, puzzled. “_ We, _ as in you and Kyra?”

“Exactly,” Kassandra was looking equally puzzled now. “You run along, tell Selene we’re on our way. We’ll follow right on, I’ll show Kyra around later.”

“You’re following me?” Phoibe’s face was a picture of confusion now. “The two of you? And that’s Kyra’s bag?” she nodded at her shoulder.

“Yes?” Kassandra’s confusion sounded like it was in danger of evolving into irritation. “Have you been sitting out in the sun all morning, little one?”

“No, no, not _ all _ morning,” Phoibe hitched Kassandra’s bag a little higher. “I was sweeping the yard for some of it,” she cast a final puzzled look over her shoulder and set off.

“Well that was odd,” Kassandra shook her head. “She’s over excited I suppose.”

“She _ did _ know that I was coming with you, didn’t she?” Kyra ventured.

“Absolutely,” Kassandra nodded a greeting to a couple of passers by. “I said so in my letter.”

“You definitely sent the letter?” Kyra was only half joking but Kassandra laughed heartily, attracting a backwards glance from Phoibe who was a little way ahead now.

“Of course I sent it. I know I can be a bit of an idiot sometimes, but I didn’t forget that. And they obviously got it, otherwise how would Phoibe have known that Odessa had a new scar?” she looked triumphant.

“A lucky guess?” Kyra shook her head, but decided to let it pass. That was a good point, after all. “So...this is Sami?” she looked about her as they followed along in Phoibe’s wake.

“Yep,” Kassandra grinned. “Like Barnabas said, it’s no Mykonos.”

“I was well warned,” Kyra smiled. “In fact I’m not sure that you both didn’t make it sound a good deal worse than it is.”

“Under promise and over deliver,” Kassandra nodded at a couple of stall holders. “At least that’s what Selene always says.”

Given Selene’s profession, Kyra wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that.

“Everyone seems very friendly at any rate,” she watched as more passers by greeted her.

“They are, pretty much,” she nodded. “It’s like anywhere else I suppose, most people are all right with you, if you’re all right with them. Admittedly there are a few who don’t think I’ve been all right with them, of course” she gave a dismissive shrug. “But they’d always asked for it.”

“KASS! You sly dog!”

Kyra turned to see one of Sami’s seemingly friendliest residents racing down the street towards them. She clearly had no intention of stopping, so Kyra let go of Kassandra’s hand and stepped well back out of the impact zone.

It was a very pretty woman, a little older than herself she estimated, and somewhat shorter. She was an uninhibited runner as well, her skirts flying about her knees as she slowed a little and launched herself into Kassandra’s arms.

Kyra stood to the side, watching awkwardly as Kassandra held the woman tightly in her arms, rocking her in her embrace and burying her face in her hair. Kyra was beginning to suspect that she knew the woman’s identity, even as Kassandra lowered her to stand and stood back to allow herself to be admired.

“Gods, look at you. Even more handsome than ever,” the woman laughed, eyeing her up and down. “Who did you have to kill to get this?” she ran a hand across the warm metal breastplate with an air of familiarity and Kyra felt herself wince slightly.

“I don’t get _ all _ my clothes from corpses, Clio,” Kassandra laughed, confirming Kyra’s suspicion.

Clio gave her a prettily disbelieving look and rested her hands on Kassandra’s hips, smiling.

“Have you seen Phoibe yet?” she sounded serious suddenly.

“Yes, just,” Kassandra nodded, “she’s run on ahead.”

“Really?” Clio sounded surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought she’d take her eyes off you for a minute. We’ve all missed you Kass, we always do...but,” she put a hand on the sculpted chest of her armour and looked serious. “Phoibe really misses you. _ Really _ misses you. You left it a long time, Kass.”

“I know, Clio, I’m sorry,” she bent her head to meet Clio’s and rested their foreheads together.

There was something about the affectionate familiarity of the gesture that wound a little knot of insecurity in Kyra’s belly, more even than the gentle kiss that followed. Kassandra had never said that she and Clio had been lovers, but she’d skirted so carefully around the issue whenever her name had come up that it was as good as an admission. Seeing them standing together, heads touching, only confirmed what Kyra had already suspected.

“You don’t need to apologise to me, Kass. it’s Phoibe you should say sorry to. And to be honest she’s already forgiven you. She forgave you as soon as that letter arrived.”

“The letter! I told you I sent it,” Kassandra brightened immediately and turned to look at Kyra, standing watching them awkwardly. 

She quickly let go of Clio, and guiltily stretched a hand out towards Kyra. “I’m sorry, love. This is Kyra,” she turned back to look at Clio, but she’d already rushed over and wrapped her in a hug, to her obvious surprise.

“It’s Clio. I’m Clio,” she released her, but kept hold of her hands and stepped back to look at her. “Kass!” she looked back over her shoulder. “You brought a girl home!”

“Yes, I guess so,” she rubbed the back of her neck, bashfully.

“It’s about time,” Clio looped her arm through Kyra’s and smiled delightedly at her. “Well this is a lovely surprise. Usually she comes back trailing dead animal parts, not beautiful young women,” she addressed her with an air of friendly confidentiality.

“Well she’s trailed beautiful young women behind her, I assume, but she’s never brought one to meet us before. You’re much, _ much _ better than some old lion’s paw. Though Phoibe perhaps won’t agree, she was fascinated with that. She slept with the disgusting thing for a while. Actually Kass, it's not Phoibe you’re going to need to worry about now, it’s Selene. She’s going to kill you for not letting us know you were bringing Kyra. Selene would have come down to the dock to meet you,” she gave Kyra’s hand a squeeze, seemingly oblivious to the astonished look she was shooting at Kassandra.

“Wait? What?” Kassandra frowned, but Clio was already leading Kyra off towards Selene’s.

“She’ll be worried that it looks rude,” she called back over her shoulder. “Pick up Kyra’s bag,” she nodded. “And get your apologetic face on, handsome.” She turned back to Kyra and leaned in to chat. “I don’t know if you’ve seen our handsome misthios reduced to an awkward girl before?” she laughed. “If not, you’re in for a treat.”

“But, Clio?” Kassandra shouldered the bag and set off after them, failing dismally to attract Clio’s attention, but receiving a sharp look from Kyra over her shoulder.

“_ You _ have absolutely nothing to be concerned about, Kyra,” Clio continued brightly. “Selene is going to be delighted to meet you. But you, Kass,” she wagged a gleeful finger back in her general direction. “Ooh, you’re in trouble now, handsome!”

Judging by Kyra’s expression Kassandra was pretty sure she was going to be in trouble on more than one front.

Kyra meanwhile, was relieved that Clio seemed happy to make effortless small talk as they walked up the sloping street. How could Kassandra have written about Odessa’s ass and not mentioned the fact that she was bringing a guest? Kyra had sat and watched her chewing her lip in concentration over the course of two evenings as she wrote that damn letter. Why hadn’t she asked to see it before Kassandra took it down to the docks?

As they rounded a corner she felt a sudden chill of sickly apprehension. Standing by the door of a good sized, nicely maintained, three story building was a tall, slender blonde. She appeared to be significantly older than Nike, well dressed, hair neatly arranged. It could only be Selene, she decided, feeling her palms begin to sweat. If any confirmation was needed, Kassandra provided it by muttering “oh shit!” under her breath as she drew alongside them.

Before Kyra had the chance to worry about an appropriate greeting, Selene had glided over and drawn her into a gentle embrace. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had introduced themselves to her with a hug, and now it had happened twice in quick succession. It felt unnerving.

She was reminded of an occasion many years ago when she had first gone to live with the Daughters of Artemis. Praxos’ sister, Phillipa, had decided to teach her how to swim. Overall the memory was pleasant, but she recalled one strange moment. Floating happily on her back, gazing up at the endless blue of the cloudless sky, Kyra had suddenly been struck with the idea of the deep water beneath her. For all she knew, it was as limitless as the sky above her. She’d instantly felt how very small and frail she was in the face of boundless nature, of how her inconsequential body could sink and never be found.

Overcome with the same trembling panic she had felt when the men rushed in to butcher her mother, she had flailed, thrashing at the water, inadvertently driving herself below the surface, feeling it scald her nostrils. Phillipa had been beside her in an instant, pulling her up to the light and holding the sobbing girl to her chest.

Kyra could feel the same panic racing towards her now, as Selene drew back and kissed her cheek. She looked about, seeking Kassandra, but she was placing Kyra’s bag carefully by her feet and looking guiltily at Selene. She felt almost as out of her depth as she had that day. She had no idea how to deal with these people. They all knew Kassandra, had known her since she was a child, no older than the the little girl clinging terrified to Phillipa’s neck. Kyra didn’t know how to approach them. None of her experience as the leader of the rebels, or the Archon, was appropriate now. These women were Kassandra’s friends, her family in a way and Kyra had nothing to draw on.

She bit back the panic, angry with herself for almost succumbing to it, angry with Kassandra for putting her in this position. Anger was better than panic, more familiar, even if it was no real use to her as she stood, feeling awkward and vulnerable before Selene’s placid gaze.

“Welcome Kyra,” she smiled. “What a very great pleasure it is to meet you at last.”

“At last?” she frowned, her confusion immediately overcoming her anxiety. “I was afraid that Kassandra hadn’t told you to expect me?” out of the corner of her eye she could see Kassandra sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck.

“Kassandra is an...idiosyncratic letter writer, it’s true,” Selene shot a wry glance in her direction. “But she generally includes some private note for me. Things she doesn’t really want us to discuss around the kitchen table. She’s mentioned you often, my dear, and I’ve hoped that we’d get to meet you one day.”

She stepped away from Kyra and turned towards Kassandra who was shuffling her feet awkwardly, barely meeting her eyes.

“On this occasion, however, she decided against forewarning me, for some reason,” she arched an elegant brow. “If she had, then I would have come to greet you at the docks, I can only apologise for what must have seemed like rudeness.”

“No, no,” Kyra held up a hand and shook her head. “It’s me who should be apologising to you Selene. Imposing on you unexpectedly like this, I don’t know how to begin to apologise.”

“There’s no need, my dear,” Selene’s smile seemed completely genuine. “It’s this great fool who should be apologising to us both.”

Kassandra looked the picture of discomfort as she looked over to her, brows creased.

“I am so sorry, Selene. I could have sworn I did tell you. I definitely remember writing that we were coming, I swear.”

“You did write “we are coming”,” Selene laughed. “But you didn’t tell us who the “we” comprised. We all assumed that you meant Barnabas and the crew as usual.”

“And whilst I used to be very good at anticipating you coming, it wasn’t because I’m an oracle,” Clio observed, making her way to the door and calling for Phoibe before Selene could reprove her.

Phoibe must have been on her way already, because she appeared instantly at the door.

“Take Kyra’s bag in would you, little one?” Clio nodded and watched as she shouldered it.

“So, what am I doing with this, then?” she asked, once she’d swallowed whatever she’d been eating on her way to the door.

“Put it with Kass’ for now,” Clio ruffled her hair as she passed. “We’ll sort it out later. Also, manners!.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, disappearing inside. Moments later they heard her footsteps climbing the stairs.

“Please,” Selene extended a hand to Kyra. “Let’s go inside where it’s cooler. If you’re anything like Kassandra you’ll be eager for some fresh water.”

Once inside she turned to Kassandra who was still looking a bit woebegone.

“That’s enough apologies for one morning I think,” she smiled. “What’s done is done. Let me look at you,” she took hold of her hands and eyed her fondly. “You look very well, sweetheart,” she reached up and cradled her cheek. 

Kyra watched, wistfully, as Kassandra closed her eyes and leaned into Selene’s touch for a few moments before drawing her into a tight hug and pressing her face against her neck. Whatever she whispered was too low for anyone but Selene to hear, but it was enough to make her smile as she stroked Kassandra’s hair gently.

“Everything is all right, sweetheart,” she raised her chin and gave her a tender kiss. “Let’s forget about it now. This is spectacular armour, by the way. Do I want to know the details?”

“I didn’t kill anyone for it,” Kassandra defended. “I paid for it, honestly.”

“That makes a pleasant change,” she replied dryly. “Let’s go and get you both something to drink, before Iva thinks that we’re deliberately ignoring her.”

Iva was the one Kyra knew least about, beyond her being Clio’s lover. Kassandra hadn’t had much information to impart, when she’d asked, explaining that she hadn’t known her all that long. Long enough for her to greet her with a kiss and a lengthy hug though, she observed, doing her best to beat back the twinge of insecurity she felt, watching as Iva stood back to admire her new appearance. Before she could fall into the trap of humouring her jealousy however, Iva came over to her.

“How nice to meet you,” she caught Kyra’s hands and smiled before cautiously reaching out to embrace her. There had certainly been a good deal of demonstrative affection in Kassandra’s upbringing, she decided, taking the offered seat at the table. That and the lack of privacy aboard ship went a long way towards explaining certain aspects of her behaviour she supposed, but before she had time to begin to ponder some inconsistencies in her theory Phoibe came trotting in.

“I put the bags in my room until we work out what’s happening,” she pulled a stool over to sit beside Kassandra, close enough for their arms to touch.

“There’s a tavern in town, I understand,” Kyra ventured, taking a sip of the water that Iva had poured for her. It was cool and fresh, and she suddenly realised how used she had become to the tepid, stale water on board for the last week. “We can take a room there, no?” she looked over to Kassandra for confirmation, but before it could come, Selene interrupted.

“Not this week, I’m afraid.”

“What’s so special about this week?” Kassandra frowned. “Gordias is never full, in fact he’s always grumbling about it.”

“Well he won’t be grumbling this week,” Iva smiled. “Not about vacancies anyway, though I suppose he’ll find something else to take its place.”

“You Know Who is hosting a wine tasting,” Clio smirked.

“We can say his name,” Selene sighed, casting an apologetic look at Kyra.

“Very well. _ Markos _ is hosting a wine tasting,” Clio corrected dramatically.

Kassandra gave a disbelieving snort.

“Whose wine are they tasting?!”

“His, apparently,” Iva replied blandly. “Unlikely as that sounds. Seems he’s very proud of his new vintage.”

“Well I hope the healer’s moved her camp a bit closer,” Phoibe observed dryly. “Because the last lot tasted like vinegar. And not particularly good vinegar at that.”

“The quality of the product aside, the tavern is still full of unsuspecting visitors,” Selene pointed out. “So we’ll arrange something else.”

Kyra’s heart sank. She’d imagined any number of ways the trip could unfold. Some of them even _ she _ had to admit had been a little over dramatic. But she’d not considered Kassandra clumsily neglecting to mention her, and failing to arrange somewhere for them to stay.

“It’s no problem,” Phoibe said, brightly. “We’ll just do what we normally do, right. And Kyra can sleep with Clio and Iva, no?”

“Well that’s an enticing prospect,” Clio laughed, “but I’m not sure Kyra shares our enthusiasm,” she noted her stunned expression.

“But usually when…” she began.

“Phoibe!” Selene announced abruptly, clapping her hands. “Would you mind running a little errand for me?”

“Hmm?” she turned, missing Kassandra’s immensely relieved expression. Kyra didn’t.

“Ooh,” Clio picked up the hint. “Bakery run, Phoibe!”

“Yes!” she was successfully distracted, taking the handful of coins that Selene passed over and heading for the door. “I won’t be long. Oh, water’s here!” she announced loudly on her way out.

Kyra was somewhat bemused by the announcement and further surprised by the arrival of a burly fellow, wearing the leather apron of a smith, carrying two large pails of steaming water. Close behind him came a much smaller, younger man, struggling a little under his own burden.

Kassandra noticed her perplexed expression and smiled sympathetically. It occurred to her that Kyra was being bombarded with an awful lot of strange, new experiences all at once.

“Selene always arranges a bath for me when I get here,” she explained. 

A bath did sound good, Kyra thought. Washing on ship was a briskly utilitarian affair. They were both clean enough that following Kassandra would be no real hardship, though the prospect of sitting here making small talk while Kassandra relaxed in the bath was a bit unnerving. Kassandra recognised her nervous expression and smiled.

“We can share, there’s plenty of room for two in the tub.”

“I imagine there’s room for three if you tuck your legs up,” Clio speculated and laughed as Kyra almost missed her mouth with her cup. “Don’t worry,” she patted her hand. “I wasn’t inviting myself, just thinking aloud.”

“You know what happens when you think, love,” Iva rolled her eyes.

After the massacre of the Daughters of Artemis Kyra had grown up surrounded by men. Sharing a tent with Praxos and then sleeping behind a curtain in a cave full of rebels had left her with a completely different attitude towards privacy than Kassandra’s total nonchalance about the matter. She’d used the public bath house on occasion, but had to admit that a private room was one of the biggest attractions of the leader’s villa.

She glanced around the table, aware that she was blushing deeply, but no-one else seemed at all fazed by the idea.

“Good idea,” Selene nodded. “Whilst you two are cleaning up and relaxing a bit, we’ll sort out your sleeping arrangements. Why don’t you take off that armour first Kassandra, there’s a limited amount of room in there after all.”

“Yes, Phoibe’s rigged up some sort of makeshift armour rack in her room,” Iva explained. “I’ll go and put some towels and washcloths by the bath ready for you.”

There really didn’t seem to be much point in arguing, Kyra decided, and awkward as it sounded, was it really any more awkward than sitting at the table discussing sleeping arrangements with Kassandra’s family?

  
  



	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's an awful lot of traffic for a bathroom, and Kyra learns that you should never think "well it can't get any worse!"

Closing the door to the bathroom Kyra was struck with the thought that this was the first moment she’d had alone with Kassandra since that morning in the cabin. The most nerve wracking part of the trip was over, but her chance of making a good first impression had been scuppered before they’d even disembarked. Still, it couldn’t possibly get any worse than turning up uninvited and unannounced, she thought. She could feel her hands trembling a little and placed them flat against the rough wood of the door to steady herself, resting her head against them and taking a slow, deep breath. 

She could feel Kassandra move close behind her and moments later felt cautious hands on her shoulders. She’d bent enough that Kyra could feel warm breath against her neck as she spoke quietly.

“I know this has all been a lot for you, but you’re doing so well. And I know I made a mess of things with my half-assed letter. Clearly in future I need to let you read through things before I send them. But, everyone likes you, I knew they would. If anything I suspect they feel sorry for you as well now.”

“Because I’m in love with a big, handsome  _ idiot _ ?” Kyra turned clumsily in Kassandra’s arms and found her smiling anxiously at her.

“So, you still think I’m handsome?” she ventured hopefully. “That’s something at least.”

Kyra shook her head, laughing despite herself.

“You damn fool. Fortunately for you, I’m not sure that you don’t get more handsome the more idiotic you are.”

“I must be pretty bloody breathtaking right about now then?” Kassandra gave her an endearingly lopsided grin. 

“You are,” Kyra conceded, stroking her cheek.

“You’re still cross with me though, right?” she tilted her head.

“Furious,” Kyra nodded. “Luckily for you, I still love you, even when you’re driving me up the wall. How could you?...damn it, Kassandra,” she shook her head. “You didn’t tell them I was coming, Clio and Iva have never even heard of me by the sound of it, we’ve no idea where we’re sleeping tonight,” she sighed.

“Well  _ you’ve _ always got the option of snuggling in between Clio and Iva,” Kassandra braved a laugh. “You notice that _ I _ wasn’t invited.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Kyra rewarded her with a smile. “Under the current circumstances I’m inclined to give it some consideration. Take your clothes off now,” she nodded. Seeing Kassandra’s pleasantly surprised expression she pushed her back a little. “Don’t get any ideas, I just think we should get into the bath, seeing as how Selene arranged it.”

As they undressed and placed their folded clothes on a stool out of splashing distance something occurred to her.

“Selene said you wrote to her separately?” she stepped carefully into the warm water, settling back between Kassandra’s legs, leaning against her chest with a contented sigh. “What have you told her, exactly? Assuming you can remember?” she added dryly.

“I’ve tried to give her some idea of what I’ve been up to. Just very general stuff,” Kassandra wrapped her arms about her and rested her chin gently on Kyra’s shoulder. “Not enough to really scare her, not enough detail to put her in any danger. But...If something had happened to me...I didn’t want her to not have any idea. I didn’t want Phoibe to think I’d just abandoned her.” She was quiet for a moment. 

“She knows that you’re the Archon,” she continued cautiously. “I only ever included notes for her when Barnabas was taking the letters directly. He would have destroyed them if the Adrestia had got into any trouble. I’m pretty sure that he’s told her stuff as well...Gods alone know what really, given his talent for  _ embroidery _ . I mentioned you being Archon just once, and I asked her not to tell anyone. Selene’s totally trustworthy, she won’t have said a thing. But I wanted her...I wanted her to know who you were, how to get in touch with you...just in case anything happened.” She fell quiet and Kyra felt her chin resting more heavily against her shoulder.

“I should have told you, I’m sorry,” she said at last, almost too softly to be heard.

“That’s all right, love,” Kyra hugged her arms more tightly about her and turned her head awkwardly to kiss her. “There’s no need to apologise for that. It was a good decision.”

“Well, I was due one,” she laughed wryly.

Kassandra fell quiet for a while, eventually reaching over for a wash cloth and beginning to rub Kyra’s shoulders and back.

“This is a nice bathroom,” Kyra decided a change of conversation might be helpful. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Till you moved into the leader’s house, Selene was the only person I knew who had their own bath,” Kassandra chuckled. “Yours is a bit more impressive, admittedly.”

“Hmm, but I’m not sure I don’t prefer this,” Kyra looked around. “It’s cosier,” she smiled as she felt Kassandra’s hands shift around to wash her thighs and belly. “Convenient I imagine?”

“It has been,” she caught the hint of mischief in her voice.

“Is that right?” Kyra replied. “And how many women have you shared this bath with, I wonder?” she was careful to keep her tone playful.

“Fewer than you’d imagine. Most of my activity in here has been solo,” Kassandra pretended to give it some consideration. The only lover she’d ever shared it with was Clio and she didn’t want to open that can of worms, not while Kyra seemed calmer and more cheerful.

“Are you going to try and convince me that I’m the first?” Kyra laughed.

“I didn’t say that! I’ve shared with Phoibe quite a lot. Actually I bathed with Selene once, come to think of it.”

“Really?” Kyra cocked an eyebrow. “I’m both intrigued and surprised.”

“I was just little,” Kassandra laughed. “Some merchant vessel docked, one of the crew was deathly ill, a few people caught whatever it was. It was pretty bad, most of them died, but I was just really ill for a couple of days. It’s the only time I remember being ill as a child, I mean I got cuts and bruises and stuff. Broke my arm once, being cocky. But this was the only time I was sick. I had a raging fever, the healer came, told Selene to fill the bath with cool water and stick me in it,” she laughed. “Selene sat in here with me all night,” she added thoughtfully.

“Where was Markos?” Kyra asked gently.

“Well not in the bath, that’s for sure,” Kassandra chuckled. “I don’t know, actually. Probably safely out of harm’s way. He’s not good with sickness. He has a delicate constitution.”

Kyra gave a disapproving little grunt and added the detail to her mental picture of Kassandra’s dubious saviour. She tried to imagine Praxos keeping a safe distance from her if she’d been sick, and failed. He would have given his life for hers without a second thought, she was sure that he still would. Feeling Kassandra hang the washcloth over the edge of the bath she relaxed back against her and lowered her hands to stroke her thighs.

She had intended it to be a gesture of comfort, a sympathetic nod across the years to the little girl Kassandra had described, but she clearly misinterpreted it, growling playfully and rubbing her nose against Kyra’s neck. It would be very easy to succumb Kyra thought, relaxing in the warm water, leaning back against Kassandra, their skin slick with sweat and scented oil, her breath hot against Kyra’s neck.

Kassandra felt her lean back into her embrace as she traced her fingers lightly up her ribs to cup the yielding weight of her breasts, palming them slowly, catching the soft nipples between her fingers, teasing, as she turned her head to worry tenderly at her neck. She felt rather than heard Kyra’s quick intake of breath as she plucked a little harder at the tightening flesh, and was therefore taken aback when she caught her hands and stopped her firmly.

“I don’t think we’re going to be doing that, Kassandra,” there was still a smile in her voice.

“You don’t sound entirely sure,” she licked around the shell of her ear, growling hungrily, acutely aware of how long it had been since they had last made love. “Perhaps I can persuade you?” she slid one hand down the slick planes of Kyra’s belly, flexing her fingers suggestively as she headed towards her target.

“Very well then. I  _ know _ we’re not going to be doing that, Kassandra,” Kyra corrected, catching her wandering hand and returning it to neutral territory.

“Kyra?” there was more than a hint of pleading in Kassandra’s voice as she attempted to free her hand.

“I said  _ no _ ,” she gripped her wrist more firmly. “We are not having sex in here while your...bonus mater is just yards away in the kitchen, absolutely not.

Kassandra chuckled, not sounding completely chastened.

“You  _ do _ remember what my  _ bonus mater _ does for a living, no?”

“That is completely different,” Kyra’s tone brooked no argument, as she caught her other hand, easing it away from her breast. “I do want you, Kassandra, and I know that between sea sickness and exhaustion there was much less sex on the voyage than we were perhaps anticipating…”

“A lot less than  _ I _ was,” she nosed Kyra’s damp, fragrant hair away from her ear, kissing gently behind it.

“Stop that,” Kyra sat up a little, pulling away. “Later. When we’re somewhere private.”

“More private than this?” Kassandra looked around the steamy room, recognizing a lost argument nevertheless.

“Much more private,” Kyra patted her hands with an air of finality. “Save it until we have a bed for the night. Why don’t you tell me about that huge bearskin I saw you carrying upstairs when you went to take off your armour? I wasn’t aware there were any bears on Kephallonia,” she aimed for a distraction.

“There aren’t,” Kassandra replied, after sighing. “Not anymore,” there was a smile in her voice now. “He’s the one who gave me these,” she raised her right arm and nodded at the thick bands of scar tissue braceleting her biceps. 

“So that’s the skin of the bear you were telling the children about, at the orphanage?” Kyra looked at the familiar scars with new eyes. “What happened? You’ve never really told me, except that a bear gave them to you.”

“It’s a strange story,” Kassandra shrugged, not sure how well it would go down. “A smugglers’ ship ran aground. Some animals escaped...you know what,” she smiled. “You should get Phoibe to tell you about it. She makes a much better story of it. I think Barnabas must have been giving her lessons.”

“So...you’re telling me that I should only believe half of what she…” Kyra was interrupted by the door bursting open. She gave a startled little gasp and splashed inelegantly as she tried to duck down below the side of the tub.

“Kassandra I got some....oh!” Phoibe stood in the doorway, barefoot, hair loose, with a towel hanging from one hand.

“Gods’ teeth, Phoibe, knock can’t you?” Kassandra barked, a good deal more abruptly than she’d intended. “What is it?”

“But I…” Phoibe blinked, waving a limp hand in the direction of the bath. “I thought we would...I mean we usually…” the towel fell forgotten from her hand.

“Ah, right, yes,” Kassandra nodded. “Look, not this time, little one. You can tell me what’s been going on later. While we’re eating those pastries you’ve brought, no?” she grinned. “We won’t be much longer, I promise. Close the door behind you on your way out, please.”

“But...we always…” she seemed about to launch into further protest.

“I know,” Kassandra sounded a little impatient with her dithering. “But not this time. Go to the kitchen and wait for us.”

Phoibe bit her lip hard and bent to pick up the towel.

“Oh, you can tell Kyra the bear story,” Kassandra suggested, more cheerfully. “She wants to know all about our great battle.”

Phoibe stopped with her hand on the door handle and turned to look at them, frowning, her lips pressed into a hard line.

“She did it to impress one of her girls,” she snapped bluntly, stepping outside and slamming the door after her.

There was a long, awkward silence following her departure. Kassandra stared at the door, blinking in surprise as Kyra sat up, splashing a little.

“Well...she usually tells it better than that,” she said at last.

“I think I got the gist of it,” Kyra combed her wet hair back from her face. “What was that all about?”

“It wasn’t to impress a girl...not really,” Kassandra misunderstood. “It was more to impress her father. He was…”

“Not that!” Kyra sighed. “I meant with Phoibe? What was  _ that _ about?  _ What _ do you always do?”

“Ohh!” Kassandra nodded as realization hit at last. “Well, usually when I get here Selene has a bath ready, just like this, and Phoibe comes in and bathes with me and she tells me all about what’s been going on since I was last here. She’d make an excellent spy, you know, she always knows everything that’s going...what’s the matter?” she tailed off, seeing Kyra placing a hand over her face and shaking her head.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” she looked up, clearly irritated.

“About…?” Kassandra ventured warily.

“About how you always take a bath with her?” Kyra sighed.

“I didn’t think,” she frowned, confused. “I mean, why would I mention…”

“Because it’s clearly her little homecoming ritual that she has with you, Kassandra,” Kyra sounded exasperated. “I’ve not been here above an hour, she didn’t know I was coming, I’ve ruined the special time she has with you. She’s going to bloody hate me!”

“Ah,” Kassandra frowned thoughtfully. “I didn’t think about it like that. I mean she and I can take a bath later if she…”

“That’s not the point,” Kyra turned to face her, slopping water over the low end of the tub. “That’s not the  _ same _ , you damn fool! Hera’s grace, Kassandra,” she shook her head wearily.

“She’s not going to hate you,” she stroked Kyra’s shoulder, she hoped soothingly. “She’s probably annoyed right now, you’re right, but she’ll be cross with me, not you. I’ll go and apologise when we’re finished here.”

“We’re finished here, right now,” Kyra sighed. “But before you go find her, you’d better tell me what other little routines the two of you have.”

“Not much really,” Kassandra shrugged. “We go hunting and climbing, swimming sometimes. She shows me what she’s learned while I’ve been away. I teach her some new things. Nothing special really.”

“It’s special to  _ her _ , Kassandra,” Kyra took her hand. “It’s  _ all  _ special to her. You’re her hero,” she gave a sigh. “So where do you usually sleep when you stay here?”

Kassandra gave her a wary look, not quite sure where she was heading with this, she was clearly in enough trouble for one day without accidentally adding to it.

“I’m not asking if you’ve slept with other women before,” Kyra said wearily. “Clio, I imagine?” she caught Kassandra’s shifty grimace. “That’s not important now. I mean do you sleep in Phoibe’s room usually?”

“Yes, of course,” Kassandra nodded. “Since  _ we _ got back together I’ve only slept with Phoibe. Not that she sleeps much the first night,” she smiled thoughtfully. “She keeps me up all night asking me about what I’ve been doing since she saw me last.”

“Right. Of course,” Kyra nodded. “Then you’re sleeping with her tonight.”

“What?” Kassandra cocked her head, frowning. “But…”

“But nothing,” Kyra said firmly. “I’ve already ruined one little ritual, I’m not spoiling another. You’re sleeping with Phoibe tonight. I can… I can sleep on the floor somewhere, it’ll be fine.”

“Oh no!” Kassandra began to protest, but Kyra’s expression stopped her in her tracks. “I mean, you can’t sleep on the floor, love,” she finished apologetically.

“I’ve slept on much, much less inviting floors,” Kyra frowned. “And I don’t want to hear anymore about it. I’m serious, Kassandra. Now go get dressed and tell her you’re sorry. I’ll apologise to her later, she should have you to herself for a little while.”

“I want her to like me, Kassandra,” she added pleadingly, watching as as she climbed out of the bath, splashing water around her and reached for a towel. “Don’t make it harder for me than it’s already going to be.”

“I won’t, I swear,” she dried herself off roughly and began to dress. “I’ll be very apologetic and then I’ll tell her I’m sleeping with her tonight.”

“ _ Ask _ her,” Kyra corrected. “Ask her if you  _ may _ sleep with her tonight,” she caught Kassandra’s puzzled, vaguely irritated expression. “She’s going to be cross. Give her a chance to be magnanimous and forgive you...and me, hopefully.”

“All right, my love,” Kassandra bent to kiss her, chastely at first but lingering over the softness of her lips for a moment, before withdrawing reluctantly. “I bow to your far superior diplomatic skills,” she smiled. “Enjoy the bath,” she gave her a wink as she left, closing the door carefully behind her.

Kyra didn’t remain long in the bath. The water was cooling, even more quickly now that Kassandra was gone. Climbing out and wrapping herself in a towel, she perched on the edge of the tub and picked up a smaller one to dry her hair. After no more than a cursory few rubs she stopped, allowing the towel to hang limply between her knees.

Gods, she sighed, she had a nerve criticizing Kassandra when she’d been a fool herself to blunder in like this. In the run up to their visit she’d been increasingly nervous, wondering how she would approach it, how she would deal with people who weren’t fighters or politicians. She’d been worrying about the wrong thing though it seemed, she reflected sadly.

She’d imagined Phoibe throughout all of it. Part of her hoping that the girl would instantly recognise what she was offering. But you couldn’t just march in a  _ make _ a family because that was what you wanted. Phoibe already had a family. Kyra was a complete stranger to her. She clearly adored Kassandra. Everything about their meeting had screamed it, from her voice to her body language. As far as she was concerned Kyra was some unknown interloper. The latest in a long line of Kassandra’s sexual conquests coming to steal their precious time together. Gods, it was so much easier to be Archon, most of the lines were already written for you, once you’d decided how you were going to play the role.

They should have discussed this before even arranging the trip, she realised now, far too late. But it was so difficult to get Kassandra to talk, really talk, about genuinely important things. She could communicate so expertly in the bedroom, she thought wryly, was so very eloquent when her tongue was between Kyra’s thighs, but trying to get to the bottom of her fears and dreams when they weren’t in bed could be such hard work. 

She knew that Kassandra had lived here from adolescence onward and there had clearly been no shortage of affection, physical or emotional. For all her outward serenity it radiated off Selene when she looked at Kassandra. It went some way towards explaining why Kassandra had astonished everyone, not least Aegeus himself, when she’d greeted him with a hug on being introduced. Though, admittedly, she’d had the wisdom never to attempt it again. And yet, with Barnabas, a man who had been like a father to her, Kyra had never seen Kassandra do anything more intimate than drape an affectionate arm around his shoulders.

Gods, the woman was such a puzzle at times, she rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily, but she would make the pieces fit, if it killed her. A sudden knock at the door made her jump and drop the towel that had been hanging limply from her hand.

It was Iva. She peeped her head cautiously around the door when Kyra called her in.

“I don’t want to interrupt, Kyra,” she closed the door behind her but didn’t advance any further. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right? It can be difficult to be the...newcomer, no?” she ventured a smile.

Kyra looked up, smiling gratefully in response.

“It’s like coming in after the play has started,” Iva leaned back against the door, giving her a sympathetic look. “Everyone else knows who’s playing which part, knows the story, understands the jokes. And you’re sitting there whispering “what’s happening now?”... May I?” she nodded at the towel in Kyra’s hands.

Kyra considered for a moment, but decided to follow a sudden impulse, patting the edge of the tub beside her.

“Thank you,” she handed over the towel. “Yes. I thought I’d prepared. I’d read the programme, if you like,” she gave her a knowing smile. “But...it’s a lot.”

“Mmm,” Iva toweled her hair gently. “It is. I thought it was tricky replacing Europa when I came here. Everyone knew her. Everyone liked her. And then I met Kassandra,” she shook her head. “Now,  _ she _ is a lot!” she grinned.

“Yes. No amount of homework prepares you really,” Kyra laughed. 

They sat quietly for a few minutes, Iva humming softly as she dried Kyra’s hair.

“I shouldn’t have come. I should have let Kassandra visit on her own. Phoibe must resent me already.”

“Ah, Phoibe!” Iva nodded. “She’s approaching that...funny age. And she hero worships Kassandra. It’ll be tricky. But you don’t strike me as a woman who’s scared of a challenge.”

“You scarcely know me.”

“Not yet, no,” Iva conceded. “But you’re the first woman Kassandra has ever brought to meet Selene. I know that means something.” 

There was another meaningful silence before Iva put down the towel and produced a comb from somewhere in the folds of her chiton.

“May I?” she asked again. “The same way you were wearing it when you arrived?” she sought confirmation before beginning. 

“It’s the only way I know to wear it, really,” Kyra shrugged, laughing. “But it’s practical, keeps the hair out of my eyes.”

It was the way Phillipa had worn her hair, the only way Praxos had known how to style it when she was a little girl.

“Well there are other styles that would serve the same purpose. But it’s a good choice, it suits you. Allows people to concentrate on how pretty you are,” she saw Kyra’s blush and laughed. “Don’t worry,” she placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder briefly, before going back to carefully combing out a couple of tangles. “I’ve not been sent to seduce you. Now that  _ would _ be a challenge considering who I’d be up against,” she laughed, pleased to see Kyra smile.

“For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing coming,” she got to her feet and selected a small vial from a shelf on the wall, unstopping it and allowing Kyra to smell the contents. “It’s good for Selene to meet you. She’s met Kassandra’s…” she tailed off, the vial hanging from her fingers. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head abruptly. “I...forget I said anything,” she poured a little oil into her palm and began to massage it through Kyra’s hair.

“Were you going to say, her “other girlfriends”? I’m not an idiot Iva, I know there have been others.”

“I was going to say, “casual girlfriends”. Girls from the island, back when she was living here. You know, it’s not where you start off from, Kyra, it’s where you end up that’s important.” She was quiet for a few moments as she began to braid Kyra’s hair. “I take it that you know she and...Clio…?” she tailed off.

“I had a good idea,” Kyra nodded. Kassandra’s awkward grimace when she’d mentioned Clio earlier had been the final confirmation.

“You shouldn’t worry about it. They were much younger. They’d practically grown up together. And, yes, they still love each other. But not the way Kassandra loves you. Not the way Clio loves me,” she smiled. “You know, I heard a lot about Kassandra before I met her. Phoibe has some stories, believe me! And then I met her!” she shook her head, laughing. “You know, the first time Clio and I made love,” she ventured cautiously. “Is this all right? If I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll…”

“No,” Kyra shook her head and placed a quick reassuring hand on her knee. “Please?”

“Well,” Iva was plaiting the second braid now. “I was so nervous... _ so _ nervous,” she shook her head at the memory. “Feel free to laugh at the idea, it’s fine. It was so obvious, that Clio stopped what she was doing, don’t ask what it was,” she grinned. “And she asked me what was the matter. I said “I’m no Kassandra”, and she just looked at me for the longest time and then said “I don’t want you to be”. There!” she patted Kyra’s shoulder. “Done!” she got to her feet and headed to the door.

“Kassandra is an impossible act to compete with,” she stopped with her hand on the door handle. “There’s absolutely no point in trying. But the good thing is, you don’t need to. We’re all fine, just the way we are. Give Phoibe time to get to know  _ Kyra _ . I’m not saying it will be quick. Or easy. But I think she’ll like you. _ I _ do,” she smiled, opening the door. “Come and have something to eat. I’ll save you a seat. We latecomers have to stick together, no?” she gave her a wink as she left.

Iva was as good as her word. Kyra took the chair between her and Clio, across the table from Phoibe and Kassandra. Whatever she’d said to Phoibe had clearly worked, and they were playfully squabbling over a plate of nut pastries.

“Good bath?” Clio smiled, taking a breath. “You smell lovely, by the way. I mean not that you didn’t before...oy!” she reproved as an olive rolled over the table towards her. “That’ll do, you two!” she shot a look at Kassandra and Phoibe, who were spluttering with barely suppressed laughter, each holding half of a crumbling pastry.

“You sounded just like Selene then for a minute!” Phoibe chuckled.

“She wishes,” Kassandra stage whispered.

“That’s quite enough, we’ll have these over on the civilized side of the table, thank you,” Clio claimed the plate. “Seeing as your girlfriend has reverted to childhood, Kyra, allow me to serve you, if I may?” she gave a little theatrical bow.

“Don’t listen to her,” Iva rolled her eyes. “She’s usually the first one spraying crumbs all over the table,” she offered a bowl to Kyra.

“Oh. Octopus,” she smiled. “Gods, I haven’t had octopus in ages,” she took a couple of pieces and then pushed the bowl towards Kassandra.

“Gah!” she grimaced, laughing.

“Kassandra doesn’t like octopus,” Phoibe supplied, smugly.

“She doesn’t?” Kyra gave her a questioning look.

“No, she says it’s like chewing on a don…”

“That will do, thank you, Phoibe,” Selene stamped her simile into the ground before she could complete it. “Your company manners, please. Both of you,” she arched her eyebrows at Kassandra. 

“Indeed,” Clio was slicing bread. “I swear it’s like living in a whorehouse sometimes.”

“I will make the three of you eat in the yard, if you’re not careful,” Selene warned.

“She once did,” Iva whispered to Kyra. “It was the most peaceful meal I’ve ever had in my life.”

Once everyone was quietly occupied Selene placed her elbows on the table, steepled her fingers and rested her chin on them, looking at Kyra.

“While you were bathing, we were discussing sleeping arrangements,” she said quietly. “Kassandra was quite insistent that you would sleep here tonight.”

“If that’s all right,” Kyra nodded. “I’m painfully aware that we’re putting you out already.”

“Not at all,” she waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t think any more about that. My only concern is that, because this is all rather short notice,” she shot a glance at Kassandra, who swallowed awkwardly. “We can’t really close tonight.”

“Gods, no!” Kyra held up her hands. “We have already caused...sorry,” she caught Selene’s warning look. “I wouldn’t hear of that, at all.”

“I was concerned,” Selene said carefully. “About how... _ appropriate _ it would be, given the circumstances,” she gave her a meaningful look.

Clio laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Appropriate, Selene? We’re not asking her to work the night.”

Kyra gave a startled yelp as Iva kicked her in the ankle.

“Gods! Kyra, I’m so sorry,” she grabbed her arm. “I forgot I wasn’t sitting next to Clio.”

“I owe you one,” Clio laughed delightedly. “In fact, seeing as Kassandra is bound and determined to sleep with Phoibe tonight, allow me to invite you to share our bed for the night. You’ll have it to yourself for half of it.”

“Yeah, that won’t be happening,” Kassandra said succinctly.

“Gods’ teeth, handsome, you can bear to be parted for one night, surely?”

“I just think Kyra will be more comfortable with us,” Kassandra persisted.

“But it’s going to be a squash,” Phoibe protested. “Iva is way, way smaller than you Kassandra.”

“And Clio is way bigger than you,” Kassandra continued ignoring Clio’s affronted exclamation. “So it all balances out..”

“But…” Phoibe began.

“I don’t want any more arguments about it, Phoibe,” Kassandra’s tone was warning. “I’ve decided.”

“Excuse me,” Kyra put down her fork with a clink. “I suppose I have some say in this, do I?”

Kassandra looked immediately chastened.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, love, I was just…”

“Making decisions for me,” Kyra said firmly. “As Iva and Clio will have been working all night, and you and Phoibe will be up all night sharing tall tales, I shall sleep in Phoibe’s room. If that is all right with you, Phoibe? The floor will be quite adequate, if you’ll allow me use of that magnificent bear skin of yours? That way, no one need be disturbed. Does that sound acceptable to you, Phoibe? ”

Her rather astonished glance was flitting from Kyra to Kassandra, who appeared to be genuinely abashed.

“I...suppose so,” she caught Kassandra’s warning nod. “I mean...yes,” she nodded. 

“Well,” Selene couldn’t disguise her impressed smile. “Then it’s all settled.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is... only one bed!? Ah no, wait, there's a bearskin, it's fine. Panic over.

Perhaps unsurprisingly Kassandra hadn’t planned any timetable of events for their stay. She’d half thought that, after they had eaten, she might take Kyra for a wander around Sami, just to introduce her to the place. But as she helped Phoibe clear the table she recognised the weariness in Kyra’s eyes.

She’d been taut as a bow string from the moment Kephallonia came into sight, and that coupled with the enthusiastic greeting she’d received from some quarters had clearly exhausted her. Tomorrow would be soon enough for sightseeing, Kassandra decided.

Phoibe wheedlingly convinced her to go out and help her sweep the yard, arguing that it was at least partly Kassandra’s fault that the job had been left half finished.

When they returned inside, Kassandra stopped in her tracks for a moment on entering the main room. Selene was reclining on one of the couches with her feet up, sipping a cup of something or other. This, in itself, wasn’t surprising. Kassandra would often take up position with Selene’s lower legs across her lap, massaging her feet and ankles as they chatted. 

She hadn’t been sure where she expected Kyra to be sitting, but it wasn’t on the couch opposite, nestled snugly between Clio and Iva, looking drowsily content. Observing the open flask of hydromeli on the table between them, she wondered if that might be contributing to the overall mood of relaxation. The fond, sleepy smile that Kyra gave her as she passed and went to sit with Selene convinced her that she was right.

With Selene’s feet in her lap and Phoibe leaning comfortably against her side, stifling a yawn, Kassandra sat back to listen to the conversation. It didn’t take more than a minute to realise who was the central topic.

“Totally naked?” Kyra exclaimed, shooting an amused glance over at her.

“Bare ass naked! Not a stitch, and this red faced fellow and his dog, hot on her heels,” Clio was laughing.

“I don’t think Kyra really wants to hear that story,” Kassandra stopped rubbing Selene’s feet and looked pleadingly at her.

“Kyra definitely  _ does _ want to hear it!” Kyra smirked. “And did he catch her?”

“Not quite,” Clio wiped her eyes. “Europa intercepted his dog, which was probably fortunate.”

“And I intercepted the irate pater, which was even more fortunate, given that he looked like he knew how to handle that shovel,” Selene smiled and wiggled her toes indicating that Kassandra should resume her ministrations.

“By the time he managed to disentangle himself from Selene telling him how inappropriate it was to come racing into the premises uninvited, wielding farm implements, Kass was crouched in the middle of the roof where he couldn’t see her.”

“So, what happened,” Kyra grinned. Kassandra was genuinely surprised that this particular story seemed to be going down so well. “He didn’t work out that you were up there? I mean there’s not really anywhere else to go once you’re out there?”

“As it happened, he decided to check the bathroom,” Clio laughed, “which turned out to be a bonus for him because I was in there at the time. He was so embarrassed that he totally forgot the roof, and Selene came to retrieve him and plied him with drink for a while.”

“And explained to him that none of this would have happened if he hadn’t been trying to marry his daughter off to a man she detested,” Selene smiled.

“Yes, she took the best part of an hour doing it as well,” Kassandra shook her head. “During which time it started to pour down.”

“And Selene suggested that they sit in the yard and watch the rain,” Clio grinned. “Just so that Kass couldn’t sneak back down.”

“How else was she to learn the error of her ways?” Selene shrugged placidly.

“The error of  _ my _ ways?” Kassandra protested. “He ended up staying until you opened and then went upstairs with Europa!”

“Don’t be insensitive Kassandra,” she reproved. “His wife was dead, poor fellow.”

“I get the feeling that there is a wealth of entertaining stories that you haven’t yet shared with me, my love?” Kyra allowed Clio to refill her cup.

“I bet there is,” Clio smirked. “Have you told Kyra the one about you getting a bear’s scrotum for the…”

“You know,” Kassandra patted Selene’s feet with an air of finality. “I think that we should get things ready for tonight. Phoibe! Customers will soon be here and you need to be in bed by then. Come and give me a hand sorting out the wine.”

“Definitely ask her about the scrotum story,” Clio patted Kyra’s hand. “It’s got a bear in it, obviously.”

“Clio, if you want us to remove this big spider from in here, you’ll move on from the bear’s scrotum,” Kassandra’s voice came from the depths of the store room.

“Another one?!” Clio shuddered. “I swear to Athene there is something in there that attracts them.”

“It’s you, my love,” Iva smiled. “They’re unable to resist you.”

Phoibe padded out to the front door with her hand over the top of a cup as Clio watched in horror.

“That hole needs patching up again,” Kassandra filled the doorway as she leaned against the frame with two jugs in her hands. “If you behave yourself Clio, I’ll do that before we leave.”

“Spiders?” Kyra frowned thoughtfully. “You know, if you crush some peppermint and lavender with lemon rind to make a paste and then smear it round all the cracks and crevices it will keep them away.”

“Really?” Clio perked up as Phoibe returned and took the jugs from Kassandra. “Where did you learn that?”

Kassandra was following Phoibe into the kitchen with two amphorae tucked under her arms, and was astonished to hear Kyra respond without hesitation.

“I spent some time with the Daughters of Artemis as a child. They taught me a few things, but that’s been the most useful in everyday life, believe it or not.”

“I do believe,” Clio impulsively pressed a kiss to her cheek. “To the market tomorrow my love,” she leaned over and patted Iva’s knee. “I like Kyra!” she yelled into the kitchen. “I think we should keep her when you go back!”

In the kitchen Phoibe was giving Kassandra a grudgingly admiring look.

“She’s a Daughter of Artemis?!” she hissed, piling clean cups on the table.

“Sort of, but not really,” Kassandra scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. It could only be the combination of wine and weariness that had made Kyra so candidly forthcoming about such a painful period of her life. 

“She doesn’t look like one,” Phoibe frowned, looking back through the door.

“And what does a Daughter of Artemis look like?” Kassandra frowned.

“I don’t know. I’ve never met one before. But not like her.”

“Her name is Kyra,” she corrected her sternly. “And it wasn’t a great time in her life, so don’t go probing her about it, Phoibe.”

“But, it’s the first interesting thing she’s said!” she protested. “And now I’m not allowed to ask her about it?”

“No, you’re not. And there are a lot of interesting things about Kyra, you just haven’t given her a chance yet.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure  _ you _ think there are a lot of interesting things about her,” Phoibe rolled her eyes. “But I’m not wanting to do sex stuff with her, so this is it for me so far.”

“Hey!” Kassandra snapped. “That will do, young lady. I don’t know what’s got into you today. I’m going to put it down to you being overtired. It’s time you went up to bed, before you say something that’s going to get you in real trouble.”

Phoibe opened her mouth to continue her protests but Kassandra folded her arms and frowned.

“Go to bed. I just want to make sure that everything is ready for tonight and then we’ll be up.”

Recognizing both the look and the tone Phoibe heaved a sigh and departed, scuffing her feet sullenly as she went.  
  


She’d clearly perked up by the time Kassandra had helped a sleepy and ever so slightly tipsy Kyra to the bedroom. Phoibe was sitting crossed legged in the middle of the bed, grinning happily. She’d draped a sheet over the bearskin by the bed and dropped a pillow to one end. 

Kassandra cast an unenthusiastic eye over it, and glanced across to Kyra. She’d expected her to be a little hesitant about getting ready for bed under Phoibe’s potentially beady eye, but clearly having a few cups of hydromeli inside her was working wonders and she was already standing in her underwear fishing a light nightshirt out of her bag. Kassandra watched her affectionately. 

Returning to Sami always roused a potent cocktail of memories and emotions for her, but there was something about being here with Kyra that overpowered them all. Admittedly her youthful self hadn’t spent very much time in Europa’s room daydreaming about the future, but her old room was just feet away and she’d certainly whiled away many hours in there fantasizing about what the Fates held in store for her.

Dramatic as some of her wonderings might have been, they ended up falling well short of the mark. Naturally enough, in amongst her speculations were thoughts of women, but how could she ever have imagined anyone like Kyra, she smiled fondly, watching her nudge her sandals out of the way under a chair. And had her imagination somehow succeeded, she would never have seriously thought that a woman like her could fall in love with a flighty adventurer like Kassandra. 

The sound of Phoibe clearing her throat with a theatrical flourish distracted her. She had misinterpreted Kassandra’s motivations for gazing at a half naked woman on this particular occasion. Kyra was gorgeous, she was always gorgeous to Kassandra, and over a fortnight had passed since they’d last made love and part of her ached for her touch. But, what she craved more than anything now was simply to fall asleep in a comfortable bed with Kyra warm and safe in her arms.

Ignoring Phoibe’s eager patting of the bed beside her Kassandra waited until Kyra had pulled on her night shirt and then reached out to gently touch her shoulder.

“Could I have a word with you, please, just for a moment?”

Kyra looked over her shoulder, a little surprised, but nodded. 

“You can “have a word” in here,” Phoibe sighed, as they headed to the door.

“A _private_ word, Phoibe,” Kassandra remained unswayed.

“Oh...one of “those” words” she rolled her eyes. “Like that time you were “checking the warehouse” with Sophitia, I suppose? Though I’m still not totally sure what...”

“That will do, thank you Phoibe,” Kassandra said with finality, frowning back around the edge of the door as she closed it behind them.

“Sophitia eh?” Kyra smiled sleepily. “I should have brought one of Savina’s tablets, it’s hard to keep track of all these names.”

“You’ll have to try harder than that, my love,” Kassandra smiled, taking her hands. “I know very well that you can remember the names of most of the people in Mykonos and beyond, so the occasional former... _ encounter _ here isn’t going to test you.”

“It’s a little disconcerting nevertheless,” Kyra shook her head. “I thought I was ready but…”

“None of it need bother you, at all,” Kassandra dipped her head to meet her eyes. “That’s all in the past, before I even knew you existed,” she cradled her cheek gently. “I love you, Kyra, so very much. Can’t that be what matters now?” she smiled hopefully.

Kyra met her eyes and held her gaze for a moment or two before reaching out and tracing the soft lines of Kassandra’s lips with her fingertips.

“There are many things that matter to me,” she breathed. “But none of them matter more than you, and our love,” she felt Kassandra ghost a soft kiss to her fingers, before she caught her hand and pressed it to her cheek.

“I’m sorry that I made such a mess of the arrangements, I really am, Kyra. I will try and sort out something more comfortable for the rest of the stay.”

“Enough apologising now,” Kyra shook her head. “You did the difficult bit very well, you got us here.”

“Yes. And that was entirely down to my skill and experience. Barnabas and the others had nothing to do with it of course!” she laughed quietly. “Still...how are you holding up? I hadn’t really thought about it until I saw Clio jumping all over you like a puppy. It’s, they...well it can be a lot. But you’re doing so well.”

“They’re nice,” Kyra smiled. “It might be the wine talking, obviously, I haven’t drunk hydromeli in an age, but, no, they’re nice, I like them.”

“I’m sorry Phoibe is being an ass,” Kassandra frowned thoughtfully. “She’s never been like this before.”

“You’ve never brought a girlfriend home before,” Kyra said softly.

Kassandra was quiet for a few moments, gazing searchingly into Kyra’s eyes.

“Girlfriend is completely inadequate to describe what you are to me, Kyra,” she breathed at last, cupping her cheek softly and bending down to meet her lips. “Home is wherever you are, my love,” she eased her close as they kissed tenderly, tasting the warm kick of the wine on her lips, smelling the hint of the sweet oil that Iva had used to dress Kyra’s hair.

“Hurry up with that “word” Kassandra!” Phoibe’s voice barked through the door. “It’s going to be sunrise before you finish at this rate.”

“I swear,” Kassandra closed her eyes and rested her head against Kyra’s. “If she keeps this up, I am going to throw her through that window.”

“It’s early days yet,” she watched Kassandra opening the door. “She thinks that I’m stealing her time with you I imagine. Gods know I should recognise jealousy when I see it,” she followed her in. 

Phoibe was sitting, grinning hopefully, the bedcovers beside her folded back.

“You’ll need to shuffle over a bit, Phoibe,” Kassandra collected the pillow and cover from the bearskin and replaced them on the bed. “Make room for Kyra.”

They both looked at her, surprised.

“But?” Phoibe began, indicating the pelt. “I thought that..”

“Well you thought wrong on this occasion,” Kassandra said firmly. “Kyra is not sleeping on the floor. We’ve had weeks in a cramped cabin to get here, we both need to sleep in a bed, move up!”

“But...can I not sleep in the middle?” Phoibe continued. “I don’t want to sleep right on the edge. Please, Kassandra?”

“That’s fine,” Kyra was suddenly weary beyond belief and in no mood for an argument. “That’s very kind of you Phoibe, thank you. You squeeze up next to Kassandra, I’ll be just fine here.”

Kassandra now looked about to complain but catching Kyra’s warning look she climbed into bed and waited as Phoibe wriggled up next to her and Kyra positioned herself carefully behind her, barely an inch or two from the edge. After her initial protests Phoibe quickly realised that the arrangement permitted her to lie a good deal closer to Kassandra than was usually necessary. As Kyra turned down the lamp and wished them good night, Phoibe snuggled down next to Kassandra, smiling contentedly.

It was a little cramped, but no worse than things had been in the narrow bunk Kyra thought, listening to Phoibe ask Kassandra how she’d acquired that new scar high on her forehead. Weariness and unaccustomed drinking meant that Kyra was asleep before Kassandra could even get to the exciting details of the storm.

She had no idea how long she’d been asleep when she was woken later by Phoibe wriggling up to lean on one elbow. Blinking sleepily she listened to a few minutes of Kassandra explaining the gory details of a boar hunt that had left her with a far less conspicuous scar, before drifting off again.

It was a dry mouth that woke her next in the early hours. The sun wasn’t up yet but the sky was lightening with the promise of dawn as she leaned over to the nightstand and poured herself a cup of water. Thankfully she was holding neither the cup nor the jug when Phoibe mumbled something in her sleep and stretched out her limbs like a dreaming dog, knocking Kyra off her precarious perch and face first onto the bearskin.

Swearing under her breath she got to her knees and looked at the scenario on the bed. Kassandra was lying on her back, snoring softly, arms outstretched, the covers rucked down about her thighs. Phoibe was clearly dreaming, her face twitched into a frown and she mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “mater”. Kyra’s irritation immediately diminished and she watched, touched, as without waking, Kassandra slipped an arm about Phoibe and pulled her closer. She was still asleep but responded instantly, wrigging close against her and throwing an arm across her chest, grasping a fistful of her tunic and resting her head against her breast. Her legs were still kicked up behind her Kyra noted wryly, watching as Kassandra rubbed her itchy nose in her sleep.

The bearskin it was then, she resigned herself. She’d slept on much worse, though she wished Kassandra hadn’t reclaimed the pillow, or the cover. They were all wound around her legs now and it would be impossible to extract one without waking her or Phoibe. Finding a spare tunic in her bag, she rolled it up to form a makeshift pillow and settled down to try and make herself comfortable on the pelt. As she did so she noticed the pile of papers that Phoibe had slipped under her bed to make room for the bearskin. Pulling them out carefully, Kyra sat up, leaning back against the wall and turned up the lamp a little to see them better.

It was immediately clear that someone was teaching Phoibe mathematics, some geometry, the basics of book-keeping. Working through the sheets she found a number covered in poetry. Many of the verses she recognised. Presumably, she was being taught handwriting, rather than composition. Her writing was reasonably neat and legible but a little inconsistent. Obviously the women here were doing their best to educate her. Kyra suspected that they were probably reaching the limits of their ability to stretch her.

The girl was clearly bright, all the work sheets gave every indication that they’d been completed willingly and to the best of her ability. The day would come though, and soon, when the pupil outpaced her teachers, and what would happen then? Phoibe deserved an education, Kyra realised, and that was one thing she could definitely provide. In fact as she turned over the last sheet, she had in her mind the perfect man for the job. She had met Dion during her time with the rebels. He had helped educate Kyra herself, he was clever, inventive, a little unorthodox and very enthusiastic about the idea of educating girls. Dion would be perfect for the role of Phoibe’s tutor.

She stopped mid thought as she looked at the final sheet. Kassandra had shown Kyra Phoibe’s rough early charcoal drawing on a grease stained sheet of papyrus. Crude as it was she had somehow managed to convey something of Kassandra’s energy all the same. Judging by the picture she was holding now, that early sketch hadn’t been a fluke.

Kassandra had no armour yet, her tunic was lightly sketched in, but the vibrancy of her pose as she faced off against the snarling beast stalking towards her was undeniable. And Phoibe had managed the tricky task of capturing herself. Even though she’d only known her for a day Kyra recognised the gangly limbs, the same tunic she’d been wearing today, the small neat bun at the back of her head. What drew Kyra’s attention though was the fact that despite the presence of a raging beast just feet away, teeth bared, saliva running from its jaws, Phoibe was looking directly at Kassandra, as though nothing else existed.

Kyra glanced over at the bed. At the great, sprawling figure of Kassandra unconsciously cradling the little girl at her side. At Phoibe’s face, soft and peaceful now as she slept in the safety of Kassandra’s embrace. Kyra found her eyes swimming suddenly and blinked hard, brushing errant tears from her cheeks. She carefully stacked the papyri and placed them safely back under the bed. The girl had been somewhat irritating today, but that was understandable, Kyra conceded. She’d expected to be able to spend one of Kassandra’s infrequent visits as the focus of her undivided attention, only to have her turn up with a complete stranger in tow. Kyra would have been jealous and resentful herself under the circumstances.

Reaching up she carefully managed to loosen one end of a cover just enough to pull it up over Phoibe and tuck it lightly about her, before turning down the lamp and lying down on the thick pelt. Tomorrow, after a decent night’s sleep, she would have a full day to try and get to know Phoibe, to try and persuade her that she wasn’t here to compete for Kassandra’s affection, much less to steal her away from her. She would try and make her see that she intended quite the opposite.

The next time Kyra woke, it was to the sound of familiar voices, raised in horseplay. Opening her eyes, she saw that someone, presumably Kassandra, had tucked a pillow under her head and covered her in a light blanket before leaving. The bearskin had been warm enough that she’d sweated a little in the night, and though it had been comfortable enough for her to sleep, she had to admit that life in the leader’s house had accustomed her to a soft bed. As she got to her feet, rubbing her back, she found herself hoping that Kassandra would indeed be able to sort out alternative arrangements for the rest of their stay.

Kassandra and Phoibe had left the bed turned back to air and for a moment Kyra was sorely tempted to climb in and catch another hour’s sleep on the comfy mattress. The voice of common sense reminded her that if she did that she was most likely to end up sleeping till the sun was high, and she had to try and make a new friend today.

Hearing Phoibe’s giddy laughter outside she leaned on the window ledge and opened the shutters a little, to see what was going on. Initially she was startled by the sight of Phoibe and Kassandra racing naked around the yard, Kassandra holding a half full bucket of water. Kyra quickly reminded herself that the bathroom clearly took some arranging, so she imagined everyone generally bathed at the pump on warm days. Except Selene she thought, somehow she struggled to conjure up that image.

As Clio walked out with a pile of towels which she placed on the bench by the door Kyra had to sternly remind herself that there was nothing strange about this either. Kassandra had grown up surrounded by women for many years and women bathed naked together all the time. It was Kyra’s careful washing behind a curtain in a dim cave that was the oddity here. All the same, she didn’t fancy that women in bath-houses stood, arms folded, watching each other in quite the way Clio was doing right now.

She tried to concentrate on the fact that Kassandra and Clio had grown up together, rather than the less comforting fact of them having been lovers, as she watched Phoibe sneaking up behind her while Kassandra advanced with the bucket. Presumably a certain amount of horseplay was generally permitted, but Kyra suspected Clio was going to be a good deal less amused than the perpetrators by this lark. She was right.

Clio’s outraged squawk as Phoibe pinned her about the hips and Kassandra upended the bucket was loud enough to draw Selene and Iva out into the yard to investigate.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Clio answered Selene’s question, “ you have somehow managed to raise two bullies,” she was wringing water out of her chiton. The wet fabric was clinging distractingly to her curves and Kyra forced herself to concentrate on Kassandra and Phoibe who were leaning together laughing.

“That’s unfortunate,” Selene folded her arms, “not least for them, as they’ll have to go and run your errands now whilst you get changed.”

“That is all your fault, Phoibe,” Kassandra wiped her eyes and nudged Phoibe with her hip so hard that she had to take a step to the side to regain her balance.

“Hey, I’m not the one who tipped a bucket of water over her,” she protested.

“No, but you were the one who told me to do it!”

“If Phoibe told you to dive off the Parthenon roof, would you do it?” Clio pushed back her wet hair.

“Well, in fairness, I have dived off the Parthenon roof, so...maybe,” Kassandra smirked.

“Whoa, no you don’t my love,” Iva held up a hand to hold off Clio who was advancing, possibly for a hug. “I don’t want you getting me wet too.”

Whatever Clio’s response, it was too low for Kyra to hear, but she could make an educated guess. It was confirmed when Iva laughed and took her hand.

“Sounds delightful, but maybe not here in the yard.”

“Definitely not here in the yard,” Selene said firmly. “Go and get out of those wet clothes somewhere private,” she nodded at Clio. “And you two get into some dry ones, you’ve errands to run.”

As Kyra washed quickly and found clothes for the day, she heard footsteps coming upstairs, passing the door and entering the next room. The walls were thin enough that she could hear voices, Clio grumbling and Iva soothing, but not what they were saying. She definitely heard the distinctive sound of someone being pushed fast and hard against the adjoining wall though, as she sat fastening her sandals. It was quickly followed by the sound of Clio groaning hungrily. Hopping out, securing the last strap, Kyra made her way quickly downstairs.

She found Selene sitting at the kitchen table working on a list, presumably the errands for the miscreants. She looked up as Kyra entered and smiled.

“Good morning Kyra, I trust that you managed to get some sleep before you were rudely awoken?”

“I slept surprisingly well, thank you. Are they always like this?” she smiled.

“Not always,” Selene pretended thought. “Not all the time, anyway. And there isn’t usually water involved. But someone’s a little giddy this morning it seems,” she added as Kassandra ambled in, still naked, toweling herself dry.

“She’s excited,” she nodded back to the yard.

“I wasn’t talking about Phoibe,” Selene cocked an eyebrow.

Kyra was a little surprised when Kassandra tossed the towel over the back of the nearest chair and advanced towards her, beaming delightedly.

“Good morning my love,” she caught Kyra’s hands and pressed them to her lips. “Did you sleep well?” Beads of water glistened in her hair and her face was flushed from her vigorous toweling.

Kyra licked her lips nervously and shot a quick glance back towards Selene.

“I didn’t realise that you hadn’t had the chance to greet one another yet,” she got to her feet. “I’ll continue this in the other room,” she gathered her things and strolled out, leaving Kassandra grinning hopefully at Kyra.

“I saw that you decided on the bearskin after all,” she slipped her arms around Kyra’s waist and pulled her close. “Was the bed so cramped?”

“A little,“ she replied diplomatically. “But it was quite comfortable. Especially after someone gave me a pillow and tucked me in.”

“That was me!” Kassandra beamed. “You looked so lovely sprawled on the fur, fast asleep. It was all I could do not to lie down next to you. But Phoibe was determined to be up and about,” she kissed her forehead. “But I definitely need to sort out the sleeping arrangements,” she bent her head to nuzzle against her neck. “Gods, I want you, Kyra,” she whispered in her ear, running firm hands up the curve of her back.

Even in the alleged privacy of their cabin, people were unnervingly inclined to come interrupting at the worst possible moments it seemed. Kyra couldn’t remember how many days it had been since she’d stood like this, pressed against Kassandra’s naked body, her breath hot against her throat. That it was happening here, in Selene’s kitchen in the middle of the morning, with Kyra fully clothed, seemed just the latest in a string of strange new experiences.

“I can’t pretend that it wouldn’t be nice to have you to myself for a little while,” she tilted her head, hesitantly inviting a kiss that Kassandra was only too eager to supply.

As she felt the soft warmth of her lips against hers, Kyra gave in to the impulse to wrap her arms around Kassandra’s neck, pulling her down as she parted her lips to her questing tongue, moaning softly as she felt Kassandra’s hands slide down to her hips, pressing her close.

“Ey! You know what Selene says about carrying on downstairs,” Phoibe’s sharp reproof interrupted them as she strode in, fully dressed, with Kassandra’s clothes bundled in her arms.

Kyra heard Kassandra’s frustrated growl as she broke the kiss and turned to the door.

“We aren’t “carrying on”, thank you Phoibe. We were just saying good morning.”

“Well I’ve never seen you say good morning to Selene like that,” Phoibe dropped the clothes on the table. “And Europa used to say, if you wouldn’t do it with Selene then you shouldn’t be doing it downstairs.”

“Yes, _ thank you _ , Phoibe!” Kassandra replied curtly. “Why don’t you go and see if Selene’s finished that list for us? She’s in the next room.”

She watched as Phoibe trotted off into the main room and shook her head.

“I swear, if she keeps this up, I am dropping her off the dock this morning.”

“No you aren’t,” Kyra sighed, tamping down the flare of arousal that their kiss had kindled. “And you need to get dressed,” she picked up Kassandra’s clothes and held them out to her. “You’re being very distracting.”

“Am I now?” she grinned shamelessly, bracing her hands on her hips and laughing at Kyra’s blush. “You know, there won’t be any errands that can’t wait for an hour. Why don’t I ask Selene to keep Phoibe occupied for a little while and you can show me how comfortable that bearskin really is?”

“You are absolutely brazen,” Kyra shook her head, laughing. “That is not happening and you need to put on some clothes.”

“Kassandra, when a lady is telling you to put on some clothes, then it’s time to put on some clothes,” Selene had entered silently and Kyra was amused to see Kassandra’s startled jump. “Phoibe is going to do the shopping and I’d like you to settle the accounts, please,” she dropped two coin purses and a couple of lists on the table. “It will be the perfect chance to show Kyra around the place... When you’ve dressed,” she added dryly.

  
  



	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe seems to warm towards the unexpected visitor.

As they made their way into town munching on the fresh pastries that they’d bought from the baker, Kyra decided that Phoibe seemed to be in a more receptive mood towards her today. She had no idea when Phoibe and Kassandra had woken, but perhaps some time playing together had improved her attitude.

Phoibe didn’t seem in the least disconcerted when Kassandra draped an affectionate arm about Kyra’s shoulders, or when Kyra decided to take advantage of her anonymity here and slip her arm about Kassandra’s hips in response. And why shouldn’t she? She genuinely was completely unknown here. She’d noticed some glances directed at them as they strolled about, but they were generally followed by someone nodding a greeting to Kassandra. As far as they were concerned Kyra was merely some unknown girlfriend that she’d brought along on this visit. 

Usually the idea that she was the latest in a long string of women who had hung on Kassandra’s arm would have troubled her, but now she realised that she could use that fact to her advantage. They had never been able to experience this stage of a relationship together, the casual intimacy of a young couple in love. 

From the very first steps their relationship had blundered from one drama to another, and now political propriety constrained them in public when in Mykonos. Why not stroll along in the sun, with her arm around her handsome lover, nibbling on a sweet pastry?

At a suitable point in their trip Phoibe and Kassandra stopped to compare notes, and decided that they would split up in order to speed along the process. Kassandra, for her part had an ulterior motive. She’d noticed that fish was on the list and while she definitely wanted to go and say hello to Sophitia before they left, she was in no hurry to do it right now with Kyra in tow, not when they all seemed to be getting along quite well. Plus it would be nice to be able to wander along alone with her for a while. 

She seemed to have relaxed into the more casual atmosphere here and to be enjoying the break from her duties. Kassandra had also noticed the glances they’d been attracting, and unlike Kyra had recognised that quite a few of them, certainly from the men, were directed at the lovely stranger by Kassandra’s side. She smiled to herself. As far as they were aware Kyra was just a particularly attractive conquest. The secret knowledge of who she really was amused Kassandra to no end.

There was a brief, awkward moment when the butcher’s wife, whilst making friendly conversation, revealed that her sister had married a man who lived on Delos. Kassandra felt Kyra tense slightly beside her, but it turned out that the woman’s letters home were solely concerned with the doings of her husband and children rather than political matters.

By the time they’d paid all of the bills and made their way back to the prearranged meeting place, Phoibe was sitting on a low wall swinging her legs and eating a pear. The laden basket and a covered jug were on the wall beside her.

“You seem to have been remarkably busy?” Kyra ventured. “If I’d known how much you had to get I wouldn’t have been so willing to have us split up. May I help you with anything?”

Phoibe ate the last of her pear and seemed to give the question some consideration. At last, with the air of one making a significant concession, she nodded at the jug.

“You could carry the milk, I suppose, that’s always a bit tricky if you’re on your own.”

“Gladly,” Kyra was diplomat enough to recognise when to accept a peace offering, however grudgingly it had been delivered.

Phoibe hopped down from the wall and reached for the basket, but Kassandra beat her to it. 

“Hey? Is that why you got a goat then, Kassandra? For the milk?”

Of course she’d mentioned the bloody goat, Kyra rolled her eyes. Odessa’s ass, the damn goat, everything apart from Kyra’s visit it seemed.

“Sort of,” Kassandra grinned. “He was a present. From Kyra.”

Phoibe raised her eyebrows and gave Kyra a long, pitying look.

“_He_? You do know you can’t get milk from a billy goat, don’t you?”

“Yes, I did in fact know that,” Kyra bit her tongue. “I asked someone to find a goat for me...and he clearly misunderstood my motivation.”

“Right!” Phoibe pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Cos I would have thought the Daughters of Artemis would have taught you that.”

“Hey!” Kassandra interrupted swiftly. “What did I tell you about the Daughters of Artemis, Phoibe?”

“What  _ did _ you tell her?” Kyra frowned, curious.

“Not to bring them up with you,” Phoibe supplied. “But you mentioned them first.”

“Hey!” Kassandra began again but Kyra held up a hand to stop her.

“You’re quite right, I did. I don’t generally like to talk about them because...well, because they were my friends...my family even for a while...and something bad happened to them.”

Phoibe was quiet, clearly ruminating on this for a while as they walked.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I didn’t know that. Did they die?”

“Phoibe!” Kassandra gasped. “Zeus’ sake, girl!”

“It’s all right,” Kyra interrupted quietly, placing a hand on her arm. “Yes, Phoibe, they did. Someone had them killed. If it’s all right with you, I’d rather not talk about that part of it right now. But if you want to talk about what they taught me, we can do that. It’s less exciting than you might expect. I didn’t get to live with them for very long.”

Phoibe’s expression indicated that she had a whole lot of questions about that, but the warning look she received from Kassandra convinced her that she ought to save them for another time.

“They taught you some things though, did they?” she ventured cautiously. “I heard they can tame wild animals, is that true?”

“Many of them, yes,” Kyra nodded, a little uncomfortable with the entire subject. Phoibe had a point though, Kyra had mentioned it quite unnecessarily the night before and now she’d have to field the questions as painlessly as she could.

“Can  _ you _ tame wild animals then?” Phoibe’s face brightened and her eyes sparkled with curiosity. She seemed so eager and interested that Kyra was saddened to have to disappoint her.

“No, I’m afraid not. I was much too young for that sort of training,” she shook her head. “And I’m sorry to say that I was a less than receptive pupil for a lot of what they did try to teach me.”

She found herself thinking of those terrible early days, when she’d regularly swung from clingy, terrified little girl, to one raging impotently at the unfairness of the world, sometimes in an instant. Quite how they’d put up with her as patiently as they did, she was unsure. Phillipa in particular had been endlessly understanding, holding the traumatised girl as she wept, allowing her to sob and beat her furious little fists against her till she exhausted herself and slept, only to be woken by horrifying nightmares hours later.

Suddenly Kyra didn’t want to talk about this anymore, she could feel the years of banked up sorrow and anger tightening her chest, thickening in her throat. Kassandra noticed the subtle change in her body language immediately, the droop of her head and the tension in her shoulders. She reached over and took Kyra’s free hand, interlacing their fingers and giving a comforting squeeze.

“What’s all this here in the basket, Phoibe?” she asked, artificially bright. “I don’t remember all these herbs being on the list?”

“Hmm?” Phoibe turned, effectively distracted. “Oh that’s the stuff for the spider repellent Kyra told us about last night.”

This was the first time Kyra had heard Phoibe use her name unprompted and she glanced up, managing a smile as the gesture shifted some of the fog of grim memories.

“It had better work, that’s all I can say,” Phoibe shrugged. “Because Clio is going to be so disappointed if we spend the afternoon smearing the storeroom in herbs for nothing.”

“It will work, so long as we prepare it correctly and apply it properly,” Kyra reassured her. “You have a pestle and mortar?”

“Mmm...somewhere,” Phoibe frowned. “You’ll have to ask Iva, she does most of the cooking, she’ll know where it is. Can I help?” she glanced over, seeming a little hesitant.

“I rather hoped that you would,” Kyra gave her a nod. “And Clio should know how to do it as well of course,” it suddenly occurred to her that if Phoibe did agree to return to Mykonos with them, it would be no use her taking the method with her.

“I don’t suppose it’s going to take all of us to chop some herbs,” Kassandra laughed. “So I’ll see about making a proper job of fixing up that hole.”

“It’s a little more complicated than just chopping some herbs, I’ll have you know,” Kyra laughed, her gloomy introspection almost cleared. She gave Kassandra a playful nudge with her hip. “It requires careful preparation.”

“Probably best you stick to shoving some stones in a hole then eh?” Phoibe grinned cheekily, receiving a light kick to the ass for it.

For a moment Kyra could imagine it being like this, the three of them, back home on Mykonos and her earlier anxiety eased to the back of her mind. Perhaps this could work after all, it just needed patience, the same patience Phillipa had shown her.

When they arrived back they found Clio and Iva sitting side by side in the kitchen, chatting and shelling beans, with an air of content that suggested they had spent a very pleasant morning together.

As Kyra and Phoibe unpacked the shopping and began to ready things for the preparation of the herbs, Kassandra made her way to the store room. The sounds of mild exertion and scraping furniture soon followed. When she ambled out later, hands dusty, she found that Kyra had set up a little production line on the kitchen table. Iva had found the pestle and mortar, Phoibe was washing the herbs, Kyra sharpening a couple of knives and Clio had a sheet of papyrus in front of her.

“I’m taking notes,” she smiled at Kassandra’s bemused expression. “I have a good feeling about this. I’ll have my victory over Arachne’s offspring at last. I can almost taste it.”

“I don’t know about victory, but I think you can taste mint and lavender,” Kassandra grinned. 

“And how do you know victory doesn’t taste like mint and lavender?” Kyra smirked, glancing up from beneath her lashes.

“Well, it never has to me,” she gave it some consideration. “It quite often tastes a lot less pleasant actually. But then I’ve never waged war on spiders before.”

“Perhaps if you had, we might be sitting in the sun shelling beans right now,” Clio observed. “Are you just going to stand there looking handsome and watching other people work?”

“I am working!” she protested indignantly. “Well, not right this instant obviously,” she spotted everyone’s dubious expressions. “I just came to say that I’m going to try and charm a hammer and chisel out of one of the neighbours, I won't be long.”

“You’re not dismantling the whole wall are you?” Iva was standing in the doorway, shaking dry the bunches of herbs.

“No, of course not. I just thought I’d knock out a couple of the broken bits then I can block it with some new stone, make a decent job of it.”

“And there’s the accidental admission that you’ve been doing a half-assed job all these years!” Clio laughed. “But bring along your girlfriend to impress and suddenly you’re a stone mason.”

“Well you did help build some silos, right?” Phoibe hopped up on to a chair at the table and watched Kyra with grudging admiration as she honed the final blade. “You probably learned some new skills there, eh?”

“I’ve learned a number of new skills since I was here last,” Kassandra braced her hands on her hips, looking smug.

“Intriguing,” Clio cocked an eyebrow. “Let’s discuss that later. Go wheedle a chisel out of mister next door, make yourself useful as well as decorative.”

By the time she returned, smelling of wine and honey cake, with the tools in hand, the herbs were being chopped and ground and mixed with a little oil.

“Did he have to forge a chisel for you?” Clio was watching Kyra with interest as she carefully dripped oil and Phoibe mixed the thick paste.

“Not at all,” Kassandra smiled affably. “He wanted to hear some sea stories and his wife had just made a cake. It would have been rude to just grab the man’s tools and leave.”

Iva gave Clio a very firm look and she closed her mouth, smirking unabashed, as Kassandra made her way back to the store room. The bright, sharp sound of chisel on stone followed. A few minutes later a startled exclamation caused them to exchange glances.

“And that, young Phoibe,” Clio gave her an amused smile. “Is why it’s a good idea not to imbibe before using tools or weapons.”

It turned out that Kassandra hadn’t hit her thumb on this occasion. She strolled in, grinning, hand outstretched. In her palm were a number of cottony looking balls.

“They really loved it in that wall, Clio,” she held them out for examination. “They’re raising families.”

Clio reared back, scraping her chair on the floor as she retreated.

“No wonder there seemed to be a never ending supply,” Iva eyed the egg sacs with wary interest.

“So many!” Phoibe had trotted over to examine them. She took one from Kassandra’s hand and held it up to the light. “You can see them moving about in here, they must be ready to hatch. So tiny! Like, so  _ very _ tiny, and yet they’ve got little legs and bodies and everything. I wonder how small something can be and still be alive?” she mused quietly.

Kyra gave her an approving look.

“That’s a very good question, Phoibe.”

“They’re so little,” she nodded. “But there must be even smaller things, right? For them to eat? Right, Kassandra?”

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it,” she scratched the back of her neck and eyed the remaining sacs.

“I suspect the bigger babies eat the smaller ones at first,” Kyra suggested.

“This is all tremendously interesting,” Clio was clearly trying not to make for the door. “But could you speculate after you’ve got rid of them? I don’t want them hatching in your hands.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Iva asked, placing a comforting hand on Clio’s shoulder.

“Kill them with fire,” she suggested, without much hesitation, nodding towards the stove.

“But they’re only babies,” Phoibe protested softly, eyeing the sphere in her hand. “It’s not their fault they were born in the wrong place.”

“Think about it this way, Phoibe,” Clio grimaced. “They can die now, quickly and cleanly before they know what’s happening, or they can be eaten by their siblings and then the survivors can get beaten to death with Selene’s sandal after scaring the wits out of me. Which sounds kinder?”

Phoibe seemed less than mollified, Kyra thought.

“Or Kassandra could go and find some safe secluded place to hide them, away from people who are afraid of them, and nature could take her course?” she suggested, giving Kassandra a hopeful look.

“An excellent idea,” she nodded, taking the egg sac from Phoibe’s hand. “I was going to go to the boatyard anyway, I need some mortar and they’re always fixing up something or other down there. That way I get to make two beautiful women happy in one fell swoop, eh?” she smiled at Clio.

“Well, it won’t be the first time you’ve achieved that, of course,” she managed an arch smile in return, missing Kyra’s wince. “Sounds like an admirable plan, so long as they don’t return to the place of their birth.”

“I don’t think they’re going to walk all the way from the boatyard,” Kassandra laughed.

“I can’t help but notice that your work seems to involve an awful lot of wandering around socialising,” Kyra observed, trying to dismiss Clio’s quip as merely good natured banter.

“Says the woman whose job consists of standing in the kitchen chopping fragrant herbs in the company of two lovely women and an incredibly smart young girl,” Kassandra replied, stepping over and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Under the circumstances I think you’re ill placed to be criticizing me for going to trade with a load of sweaty boat-wrights.”

“An answer for everything,” Iva laughed. “But I think you have to give her that one, Kyra.”

When Kassandra returned some time later, a big wad of mortar wrapped in wet hessian swinging from one hand, the fact that she was finishing a strip of dried squid suggested that she hadn’t just socialised at the boatyard.

“We should wait for Kassandra to repair the hole before we spread this around, should we?” Phoibe indicated the large bowl half filled with pungent green paste.

“There’s no point putting any in the hole, they won’t be able to smell it if it mixes with the mortar,” Kyra nodded.

“How do they smell it anyway?” Phoibe pondered. “Spiders don’t have noses. Do they?” she looked to Kyra for an answer this time.

“I’m not sure, Phoibe,” she frowned. “I mean, I’m pretty sure they don’t have noses,” she smiled, “but as for how they smell things? I don’t know, I’m afraid.”

“Hmm,” Phoibe shrugged, pondering. “Hey, Clio? Would they be more or less scary if they had noses?”

“More!” Clio replied without hesitation. Seeing the bemused looks she was receiving in response she elaborated. “Because for me to  _ know _ that they had noses, they’d have to be big enough for me to  _ see _ that they had noses, right? And then they’d be too big for Selene to hit them with her sandal.”

“She has a point,” Kassandra nodded. “I don’t know if it’s a good point, but it’s definitely a point. So, if you’ve finished up here, Phoibe, would you like to come and help me repair the hole?”

Phoibe needed little encouragement to leave the others cleaning up and go work with Kassandra. When they’d finished, the repair wasn’t quite up to stonemason standards but it was very much better than any of the previous attempts. Applying the repellent paste took far less time than they’d feared with five pairs of hands working at it, and soon they were out in the yard, washing at the pump.

“I hope you realise, Kyra,” Clio smiled, drying her hands, “that I am now a little bit in love with you.”

“Perhaps you’d better wait to see whether any spiders reappear before you try and steal her away from me?” Kassandra gave her a good natured grin.

“I wasn’t planning on fighting you for her,” Clio laughed. “I’m just letting you know that if Kass starts to let standards slip, Iva is very accommodating and we can always get a bigger bed.”

Kyra covered her blush under the guise of washing her face.

“I’ll bear that in mind, thank you. It’s always good to have a fallback plan after all.” 

“And speaking of plans,” Kassandra smirked. “And bigger beds. I’ve worked out where we can sleep tonight. So long as you don’t mind roughing it a little?” she slipped an arm about her waist.

“I’d ask her  _ how _ rough before you answer,” Clio arched an eyebrow. “This is a woman who curled up next to a dead elk for warmth one night, remember.”

“It’s a surprise,” Kassandra said cryptically. “But it’s not a dead elk,” she reassured her. “There aren’t any elk on Kephallonia for one thing.”

“Is it two dead goats?” Kyra tilted her head playfully. 

“It’s nothing dead. But we will need bedrolls. I’ll go rustle up some things from the ship.”

“Is it camping?” Phoibe chimed in. “Are you going camping? Oh, can I come Kassandra? Please? Please let me. I won’t be any trouble, I swear. We can go near where I hunt rabbits, I’ll show you what a good shot I am now.”

Kyra could sense Kassandra’s refusal brewing. Whilst she’d also hoped for a night alone together, Phoibe had been so much more affable today that she really didn’t want to derail any progress that they’d made. If they were camping out, they would surely be able to find a little time alone together once Phoibe was asleep. Kassandra had her mouth open to speak, when Kyra interrupted.

“That would be all right, Kassandra, wouldn’t it?” she gave her a pleading look. “I’d like to see Phoibe hunt. You’ve already told me how good she’s become.”

Clio and Iva had discreetly made themselves scarce as soon as Phoibe had voiced her request, so Kassandra was left looking from Kyra’s soft, persuasive smile to Phoibe’s bright, hopeful face. It was most definitely not the plan she’d had in mind for tonight. But she reminded herself that she’d made the situation work often enough when she lived here. It was less than perfect, but better than the alternative, and Kyra had put her in a position where it was impossible for her to refuse without looking unreasonable.

“All right, I suppose so,” she sighed. “But you have to carry your own bedroll. And sort out some food for us to take with us, all right?”

“Absolutely!” Phoibe grinned, bouncing delightedly. “I’ll go and do it now. Thanks Kassandra.”

“Thank Kyra,” she shook her head, smiling despite herself. “It was definitely two against one.”

“Right, right,” Phoibe halted briefly at the door. “Thanks Kyra. I’ll catch you a rabbit. We can roast it. I’ll do it, Kassandra always does it for too long or not long enough. I’ll come with you to the Adrestia, Kassandra, and help you collect your stuff.”

By the time they’d visited the Adrestia to collect supplies it was later than Kassandra had anticipated. Phoibe had been commandeered by various crew members for hugs and greetings and dusk was falling as they set out, carrying bedrolls and food, Phoibe with her bow slung across her back. Kassandra had also insisted on bringing a lantern, though it wasn’t lit yet.

“Why do we need that?” Phoibe was skipping along beside her, bubbling with excitement, her bedroll bouncing against her hip with every step. “The moon is bright tonight and we’ll have a fire.”

“We may need it where we’re going,” Kassandra replied cryptically. 

She had no intention of camping out tonight, though now she thought about it, it would be quite nice to spend an evening beneath the stars with Kyra, away from everything. But only without Phoibe’s rather stifling presence. Tonight though she had a different plan in mind. 

She was leading them towards the small house where she and Phoibe had lived before Kassandra left Kephallonia. It would no doubt need a thorough sweeping and there was no guarantee that opportunistic islanders hadn’t helped themselves to the few belongings she’d left behind, hence the lantern. It would be fun to show Kyra where they’d lived and grown together, and there would be a modicum of privacy at least, definitely more than with the three of them curled up in the same bed.

It was getting dark as Kassandra made to cut off across a scrubby meadow towards her old home, surprising Phoibe who was already a few steps off in the opposite direction. 

“Aren’t we going over here?” she nodded her head in the direction of a small copse. “It’s fat with rabbits first thing.”

“Well then you can run over there and catch us one for breakfast,” Kassandra smiled. “Better make it two actually,” she winked. “I’ll be starving by then.”

Kyra could sense that something was brewing but had no idea what at this stage. Kassandra seemed determined to lead them closer to the coast, but Phoibe certainly seemed to have the right idea about where best to camp for rich hunting.

“But...it’s a much nicer place to camp over this way?” Phoibe’s voice carried a hint of desperation as Kassandra took Kyra’s hand again and led her off across the field. “Please? Can’t we go this way?”

“Look Phoibe,” Kassandra came to a stop and looked back at her, sighing wearily. “If you want to go camping over there, then be my guest. Really. It’s fine. Go set yourself up and come join us in the morning with a couple of nice fat rabbits, eh?”

Kyra was pretty certain that a night’s solitary camping wasn’t what Phoibe had anticipated, but she was being a little unreasonable. It had been a long day, they were all becoming tired, it was beginning to get dark. Why wouldn’t Phoibe just compromise about this? If she wanted to spend the night with them, then she was clearly going to have to follow them, she could feel determination radiating from Kassandra. Phoibe was just going to have to admit defeat on this occasion.

They walked on a little way. Kyra could sense that Phoibe had stopped, to consider her options no doubt. After a few paces she heard her sigh and begin to follow.

“But, where are we going to camp, Kassandra?”

“I don’t think I ever said we were camping,” she chuckled. “You assumed that, I just didn’t correct you. We can camp another night if you like. You can choose the place. Tonight we’re going to show Kyra where we used to live,” she turned and gave Kyra an affection smile. “Hovel sweet hovel.”

“You had a hovel?” Kyra raised her eyebrows. “How luxurious. Imagine sharing a tent with Praxos for months. And not a big tent either,” she smiled.

“Gods! That’s quite an image,” Kassandra shook her head, laughing softly. “I was worried about taking you to a dusty, run down, two room place, but I’m less concerned now.”

“Is there a door?” Kyra narrowed her eyes playfully.

“There’s a couple of doors,” Kassandra chuckled. “Unless someone’s stolen them of course. Hey, Phoibe!” she called over her shoulder. “Have you checked out the old place recently? Does it still have its doors?”

There was no answer and she halted and turned back to look for her. Phoibe had stopped in her tracks, her bundle of bedding hanging limply by her side. She looked a little sickly, Kyra thought.

“Are you all right, Phoibe?” she asked quietly. “You look a bit ill all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” she swallowed thickly. “I just...I don’t think this is such a good idea Kassandra. It's going to need sweeping out, there could be rats living there, and it's getting dark, we won’t be able to see what we’re doing.”

“Hence the lantern,” Kassandra held it up and waved it playfully. “I’ve thought of everything,” she grinned. “Unless someone’s stolen my broom as well, then we’re going to struggle I suppose.”

“May I remind you? Tent? With Praxos?” Kyra smirked.

“And you’re not afraid of rats?” Kassandra grinned.

“Not in the least,” Kyra laughed. “You can leave the rats to me whilst you’re making a new broom, seeing as how you’re so good with your hands.”

“I had entirely different plans for these hands tonight,” Kassandra growled low, grinning wolfishly.

“Broom first, then we’ll negotiate,” Kyra laughed.

“Hmm, I stand no chance against you across the negotiating table.”

“Perhaps you should find out what I want out of the negotiations first, before you look so downcast,” Kyra cocked an eyebrow archly, running her thumb across Kassandra’s knuckles teasingly. "Besides which, I seem to recall you doing pretty well on a table last time."

“Well,” a slow, hungry grin spread across Kassandra’s face. “It’s a warm night, let’s go and get that roof terrace swept clean. Come on Phoibe, let’s...” she raised her voice and glanced back, only to find that Phoibe hadn’t moved a step. “Come on, Phoibe,” she nodded her head encouragingly. “It’s not getting any lighter out here.”

“You know,” she was shuffling her feet and fidgeting awkwardly. “I think that it would be a good idea if you had some time alone, no? I mean together...but alone...alone together that is? No? So perhaps...actually, you know what I’ll do?! I’ll go and bunk with Markos tonight, it’s not far, and I can tell him that you’re here...in case word hasn’t reached him yet...because you’re going to want to go and see him, eh? So I could...let him know? Anyway, that’s what I’m going to do...right? I can still...come...with rabbits...if you...anyway, I’m just going to go...now. Have a good night.”

They stood watching, bemused, as Phoibe waved and turned quickly, heading off towards the copse.

“You’ve only known her a couple of days,” Kassandra glanced down at Kyra, frowning curiously. “But that was odd, right?”

“Very,” Kyra nodded. “I’d have thought she’d have slept on a clothesline to spend more time with you.”

“Well I guess we should make the most of it,” Kassandra shrugged and grinned slowly. “Let’s go chase off the rats, sweep the roof and make love under the stars. We can actually go see Markos in the morning,” she suggested brightly. “For a man who is constantly complaining that he’s short of drachmae, he’s never short of food. We can scrounge breakfast. It’ll be much better than a campfire rabbit.”

“I’m not going to pretend that breakfast doesn’t sound tempting,” Kyra leaned in against her as they walked. “But I wasn't really planning on making another unannounced appearance, wearing a chiton I’d slept in.”

“It won’t be unannounced,” Kassandra raised Kyra’s hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles gently. “Phoibe’s taken leave of her senses and is going to announce us, and believe me, you’re _not_ going to be sleeping in that chiton tonight,” she growled playfully.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn what Phoibe knew.

“So this place is where you were living when you met Phoibe?” Kyra asked as they strolled along, hand in hand.

“Mmm, we lived here together till I left Kephallonia,” Kassandra nodded. “Then she moved in with Selene. I mean, I planned to give the place to Phoibe, so she’d have somewhere of her own, if she needed someplace quiet or wanted some privacy. But she’s too young to be living on her own all the time, and when she comes back to Mykonos with us, well she won’t need it anymore. I guess I’ll give it to Selene, she can sell it I suppose. It’s nothing grand, but it was a roof over our heads. Well over Phoibe’s head at any rate,” she laughed.

“And  _ your _ head?”

“Slept on the roof terrace most nights, just the stars above it, and a slightly ratty canopy. Wonder if that’s survived?” Kassandra mused quietly.

“And if it rained?” Kyra watched as a couple of bats darted above their heads in search of prey.

“Then I went down and slept with Phoibe,” Kassandra smiled. “It was less than ideal, but better than a tent with Praxos I imagine?”

“After a certain age, undoubtedly,” Kyra laughed. “Not much privacy, for either of you though?” she ventured.

“No, not really,” Kassandra shrugged. “Thankfully Phoibe was too young to really be concerned about that, and I made do,” she grinned. “Now perhaps you understand why I have a more relaxed attitude to privacy than you. Plus, I was always surrounded by women, now I come to think about it.”

“Yes. I sometimes wonder what things would have been like if I’d been able to grow up with the Daughters,” Kyra said quietly. “What _ I _ would have been like?”

“Their leader by now, I imagine,” Kassandra gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “You were always going to be the leader of something, somewhere. It’s in your spirit.”

Perhaps, Kyra thought, but her whole life would have taken a different direction had Podarkes not hunted down and massacred her new sisters. She hadn’t even known who he was at the time, and yet he’d managed to direct the course of her life at every stage. Looked at that way, he’d been the architect of his own bloody demise. And of course, he’d inadvertently led her into Kassandra’s arms. The whole hideous mess, all those cruel, unnecessary deaths, they’d all led to this moment here, on a quiet island, far away from all those political machinations, hand in hand with the woman she loved. 

Kyra could feel tears welling in her eyes, the mix of emotions birthing them too complex and upsetting for her to want to deal with now. Let tonight just be, she decided. Just the two of them, the warm night breeze, the stars their only witnesses.

“Was it close by that you met Phoibe?” she blinked quickly, brushing away the tears under the cover of dark. “You never really told me any details about how you found her. Did you just stumble onto her camp or something?”

Kassandra took considerably longer to reply than she’d expected, and when she did, her voice was halting and sombre.

“Well...sort of, in a way I suppose. Not stumble exactly, but I didn’t know what I was…” she tailed off suddenly and stopped mid stride, pulling Kyra to a halt beside her. “What the hell?” she was peering off a little way, brows lowered.

Kyra followed her gaze and saw the shadowy outline of a building some way off, their destination no doubt. Kassandra hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said it was small, but that wasn’t what caught Kyra’s attention. There was a light in the window and, it seemed, a lantern burning in the yard at the rear.

“Thieves?” she suggested, lowering her voice instinctively, even though they were too far away to be heard unless they shouted. 

“They’ll be pretty disappointed,” Kassandra scowled. “There might be a couple of blankets and a bit of petrified cheese. But that’s not the bloody point,” she growled. “Wait here, love. Let me go and sort this out.”

She dropped her pack by a clump of scrubby bushes and placed the lantern beside it. Turning to look at Kyra she found her standing, weight on one hip, twirling a lethal looking dagger between her fingers, her grin almost as sharp as its blade.

“I think not, Misthios!”

Kassandra’s scowl melted as she was suddenly flung back across the years to the moment she’d turned her head in a gloomy, smoky cave and had first set eyes on the young rebel leader. Her heart lurched now just as it had then at the sight of the young woman downing a cup of wine in one draught before slamming it down on the table and turning to her with a dangerous glint in her eyes and a slim, sharp smirk that had seemed even more deadly than the dagger that had barely missed her nose.

Kassandra had never given much credence to the notion of love at first sight. Desire certainly, that was a different matter. But it hadn’t been just her sex that had clenched as the beautiful stranger had stalked over to her, seemingly unimpressed by the sudden appearance of the powerful warrior in her hideout. For the first time since her youth she’d found herself totally wrong footed, frantically trying to keep her composure as she scrabbled through her disordered thoughts, desperately searching for something suave and confident to say by way of response. 

Deep inside herself she’d known, even at that first meeting, that nothing would ever be the same again, that here was the woman that could turn her whole life around. It had made no sense, but that didn’t matter, nothing mattered other than the young woman advancing on her with a dangerous glint in her eye and a knowing smirk playing about lips that Kassandra already ached to kiss.

And now here they were, side by side, heart by heart, having pledged themselves to each other after an ordeal of painful struggle. They’d defied the Fates together and emerged stronger and more determined, certain that no matter the obstacles life might still have to toss in their path they would defeat them together, emerge even more firmly bound. She wanted to drop to her knees before her, here in the shadowy night and bow her head to Kyra’s feet, press kisses of supplication there and swear her undying love.

Instead she hauled her mind back to the present, to the unexpected intruders in her old home. She swallowed down the flood of memories and managed to match Kyra’s playful, knowing smile with one of her own.

“I assume you had that in your boot?” she glanced down.

“Never leave home without it,” Kyra tossed it expertly from hand to hand and winked.

“Gods, Kyra,” Kassandra laughed, shaking her head. “Just when I think you can’t get any sexier.”

“I could throw it at you later, if you’d like?” she arched an eyebrow. “Let’s just get rid of these unwelcome interlopers first, eh?”

“Well this looks like it’s going to turn out to be an even more exciting night than I’d dared hope,” Kassandra unsheathed her spear. “Let’s head over to that small stand of saplings, you see it? We can get a decent view from there, see how many of these jackasses we’re dealing with, before we go kick them into the middle of next week.”

They stashed their packs and advanced closer to the house, keeping to the shadows, so close together that Kassandra could feel her head swimming with Kyra’s scent and warmth.

The point she lead them to provided a perfect view of the back of the building, clear into the yard. There was a lantern burning low by the back door, providing just enough light to warm the shadowy yard and they hunkered down, side by side, to keep watch for a while, to assess the numbers of their opponents and the relative risk they posed. 

It was so reminiscent of those early days that Kassandra felt the years melting away and she had to blink rapidly and shake her head to remind herself that she was no longer a hopeful suitor, desperate to impress. She was a renowned hero who had helped turn the tide of battle time and again, Kyra was the powerful leader of two prosperous islands. Yet here they were on Kephallonia, crouching in the shadows, hearts racing with excitement at the prospect of taking out a handful of second rate bandits. The whole thing was so ridiculous and yet so wonderful that she couldn’t prevent a small huff of laughter and felt Kyra turning to look at her, she could sense the quizzical tilt of her head.

“There can’t be more than a handful in there,” she whispered by way of explanation. “There literally isn’t the room. We could just march right in and take them out if we wanted.”

“Well, no doubt,” Kyra nodded, “but perhaps we should get some idea of what we’re dealing with. It could just be a couple of youngsters who’ve come out here to loot and fool around. Let’s not go right in, blades flashing, eh?”

“Ever the strategist,” Kassandra smiled, stopping suddenly, a finger to her lips as the back door opened.

Kyra narrowed her eyes and watched intently as a figure appeared in the doorway, back-lit by a couple of lamps in the room behind him. He seemed to be about their age, slender but well muscled with close cropped dark hair and beard. Moreover he was totally naked apart from a towel hanging over his shoulder. Definitely unarmed. Kyra eyed him up and down, he was not much bigger than herself, but no doubt quick and strong.

They watched as he yawned and stretched, scratching his chest lazily as he ambled over to the pump, hung his towel over the handle and began to fill a bucket, ready to bathe. 

Shadows flickering in the doorway betrayed the presence of at least one other person inside. It would definitely be useful to know how many others to expect.

Obligingly enough, a second man strode out at this moment. Taller and heavier than his companion, he was carrying a lot more weight, but beneath the smooth layer of fat Kyra could tell he was heavily muscled. He’d be slower, clumsier maybe, but those brawny arms, even unbraced would pack a powerful punch if they made contact. The fact that he was barefoot, wearing only a perizoma reassured her that he was also unarmed. She should take the slender one, Kassandra could handle his beefy companion.

Kassandra bent and began to whisper exactly the same plan in her ear, but stopped mid sentence as the big man stroked his braided beard and strode over to the pump, quickly slipping his arms about the younger man’s waist from behind and bent to nuzzle affectionately at the crook of his neck.

They weren’t youngsters admittedly, but perhaps her initial suggestion hadn’t been so wide of the mark Kyra thought, as the younger man turned in his lover’s embrace and inclined his head invitingly for a kiss. She experienced a fleeting pang of resentment. That was what she’d planned on doing with Kassandra about now, and instead she was crouched in the dark, twigs and dead leaves prickling her knee, watching uninvited guests taking their place.

She felt Kassandra, hunkered down next to her, relax back on her haunches.

“We’ll give them a few minutes,” she whispered. “If they start fucking, we can just walk right in, they’ll never notice. I’ll knock out the big one, then we can quiz his little boyfriend, find out what’s going on.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kyra followed Kassandra’s lead and relaxed her posture, ready to wait for nature to take her course. 

Watching the younger man wind his arms about his lover’s neck and lean back against the pump as their kisses intensified, she decided that Kassandra’s prediction seemed pretty much on the money. She’d never actually made a point of watching anyone having sex before, and even though that wasn’t their motivation in being here, there was still something decidedly voyeuristic about the whole thing that made an awkward, embarrassing fist of arousal clench deep in Kyra’s belly. 

Hoping that the shadows would hide her blush she glanced over at Kassandra. She seemed remarkably unmoved by the whole display. In fact she was biting off a hangnail with a distracted frown. Kyra caught a quick flash of her sharp, white teeth and swallowed quickly. Satisfied with her on the fly manicure, Kassandra looked up again and heaved a sigh.

“Gods sakes, get on with it man,” she grumbled. “You’re out in the yard by the bloody pump for Eros’ sake, not in your damn bedroom...my damn bedroom...well Phoibe’s damn...wherever,” she finished grumpily. “Come on Kyra,” she nudged her arm. “We’ve not got all night. They’re distracted enough. If you slip round the far side of the wall there’s a broken down part with a couple of bushes to cover you, slip up behind Ganymede there and I’ll go through that gap here and get a hold of the other one.”

“We’re not going to hurt them, right?” Kyra asked, suddenly hesitant.

Kassandra glanced back and smiled. “No more than we need to to be rid of them. It’s _my_ house after all,” she nodded in the direction of the yard. “And that’s supposed to be us, nearly naked, necking by the pump, in case you’d forgotten?”

“No, no I had not,” Kyra admitted guiltily, still aware of the warm knot of arousal slumbering deep in her belly. “They just don’t look that dangerous, is all.”

“You know how many people have those as their last words?” Kassandra chuckled softly.

“No, I don’t. How many?” Kyra issued a playful challenge.

“Well, I don’t have the exact figures to hand right now. But it’s a lot! So let’s not make it two more.”

“They’re not even armed,” Kyra pointed out, reasonably enough she thought.

“Are you sure? Because it looks like at least one of them is carrying a concealed weapon,” even in the dim light she could see Kassandra raising an eyebrow.

Following her gaze, Kyra blushed hotly before giving her a punch in the arm.

“Kassandra! Don’t be vulgar. There’s a time and a place.”

“Just as there is for indulging eager lovers. Don’t let your guard down,” she reminded her. “But, fine. No unnecessary bloodshed. I’ll subdue the big fellow, looks like most of his blood has been redirected from his brain anyway. Just don’t underestimate the wiry one. He’s going to be wet and slippery remember.”

For once, it seemed as though Kassandra hadn’t intended any innuendo. Kyra watched as her powerful fingers tensed around the shaft of her spear.

This was more exciting than it had any business being, Kyra thought as she followed Kassandra’s directions, slipping silently over the fallen stonework and into the concealing bushes. Just as they’d expected, neither man noticed their approach. Kyra timed her creeping towards the pump, low on her haunches, arriving behind her target just as his lover gave a strangled gasp of shock as Kassandra’s muscular arm locked about his neck from behind and dragged him back. It was the work of a moment for Kyra to stand upright and repeat the action with the younger man, pulling him hard back against her and hissing in his ear.

“Not a word, not a motion, my friend,” she placed the sharp point of her dagger beneath the angle of his jaw, just firmly enough to leave him in no doubt that she was serious. “We don’t want to hurt you. Stay nice and calm, follow instructions, and this can turn out to be an amusing tavern tale for you to tell later.”

“Did you hear the lady?” Kassandra tightened her grip on the older man’s throat, ready to render him unconscious if the need arose. She poked the tip of her spear warningly into his side, right over his liver. “Be sensible and everyone is going to walk away from this, none the worse for wear. We just want some information from you, my amorous friend. Understand? Don’t speak, just nod a little if you understand”

The big man complied instantly, or as well as he could with her powerful arm bracing his neck. His eyes seemed fixed on the younger man and Kassandra could feel his shuddering breaths.

“Very good. Right now,” she growled threateningly. “Firstly. Just what the hell are you two…”

Her question remained incomplete, for at this point a third voice came from the house and the light waned as another man appeared in the doorway.

“All right, you two,” he was older, clean shaven and wearing a work-worn tunic. At first he failed to notice the drama in the yard as he walked out, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Put each other down for a minute, supper is…”

His words and strides came to a simultaneous halt and the cloth fell to the ground as he stood staring, pale and open mouthed, at the scene.

“Shit!” Kassandra hissed. That had been a schoolgirl error. She’d allowed herself to become distracted by Kyra’s presence. So eager at the prospect of having her in her arms at last as soon as they’d cleared the house, that she’d rushed in almost impulsively. Myrrine would have kicked her ass had she been there.

She looked over her prisoner’s shoulder to get the measure of the newcomer. They were lucky, he was much older, wiry and work-hardened for sure, but literally trembling in terror as he stood gaping at them.

“Don’t hurt us, please,” he held up shaking hands. “Please, please. We don’t have much. We’re just poor shipwrights, but whatever we have you can take, just let them go. Please? We...we have some money, for rent. It’s just inside. I can get it for you. And our tools! They’re good tools. You can sell them. It’s not much but..”

“We’re not fucking bandits!” Kassandra bristled, affronted by the assumption. Though what else was he to suppose under the circumstances, she decided, ever so slightly loosening her grip on the man she held.

“Then…” he looked from Kassandra to Kyra and back again, obviously bemused now as well as terrified. “Then what can you possibly want with us?”

“First of all, I want to know if there are any more of you in there?” she nodded to the door. The old man shook his head immediately. “Secondly,” Kassandra snarled. “What are you doing in my fucking house?!”

“ _ Your _ house?” he seemed even more confused. “I’m sorry. There has clearly been some misunderstanding. I’m sure that we can sort all this out without anyone getting hurt. If you’d just…”

“No one is going to get hurt,” Kyra chimed in. She still had a tight hold of the young man, his eyes were rolling in terror like a startled deer and his hands clasped at her forearm as he gazed desperately over at his partner. “Calm yourself and explain what you mean. What sort of misunderstanding?”

“You must have the wrong house,” he was fidgeting nervously with the hem of his tunic, worrying it between work calloused fingers. “This house belongs to a chap named Markos.”

Kyra heard Kassandra’s weary sigh from across the yard.

“You mentioned rent?” she asked, more kindly.

“Yes! Yes, do you want it?” he looked optimistically in the direction of the door and seemed about to make a move. “It’s right inside, just on the table. You’ll be able to see me the whole time, I swear. There are only two rooms.”

“I know exactly how many fucking rooms there are,” Kassandra snapped, making him jump. “We don’t want your damn money. You stay right where you are, old man.”

“Kassandra?” Kyra ventured, voice soothing. “I think we can get to the bottom of this quite quickly. There’s no need for any of us to get agitated about things.”

“Kassandra?” the old man glanced over, seeming quizzical. “That’s an odd coincidence.”

“Is it now?” Kassandra glowered. “Elaborate a little, would you?”

“Of course, of course,” he nodded, raising pleading hands. “If you could just release my friends first, please, I beg you? It’s hard for me to think straight with your blades to them like that. Please?”

“Not quite yet perhaps,” Kyra gave him a sympathetic half smile. “But I think we can lower our weapons under the circumstances. Don’t you, Kassandra?” she suggested, raising her foot to replace the dagger in her boot.

“I suppose so,” Kassandra’s tone was grudging, but she was already sheathing her spear. “There now. You were saying?” she gave the old man a curt nod.

“I was?” he frowned, trying to regain his train of thought. “Oh, yes. I was saying that it’s a coincidence that your name is also Kassandra. That’s the name of the woman who gave Markos this house.”

Kassandra raised her eyebrows and relaxed her hold on her prisoner’s neck a little more. She could feel him trying to turn towards his lover, clearly far more interested in his well being than in trying to overpower her.

“Do tell?” she said dryly. “What a very generous person this Kassandra sounds like.”

“Indeed, I suppose so,” he nodded. “But then again, it was no more than he deserved for saving her life really.”

“Well _this_ sounds like a fascinating story,” she sighed. “And I do love a story. Listen,” she shook the man she was holding, just enough to regain his full attention. “I think we can let you two go now. But if you do anything, anything at all, other than run desperately into each other’s arms, I  _ will _ knock you out cold. Do we understand each other?”

As he nodded and grunted his agreement Kassandra glanced over to Kyra and met her eyes. Giving her a barely perceptible nod, they both released their hold, bracing themselves in case the men turned back on them. They needn’t have worried though. The big man followed Kassandra’s instructions to the letter, racing over to his lover and enveloping him in a huge bear hug before drawing back and stroking his face, quietly asking if he was hurt.

“This is all very touching,” Kassandra waved a finger at them, then gestured over to the old man. “The three of you go and sit on those stones over there. We’re all going to listen to a story. Carry on, old man. You were about to tell us how this heroic Markos fellow saved a woman’s life.”

“Well she wasn’t a woman at the time,” he seemed much calmer now as his friends walked over to sit by him, arms about each other. “Just a little girl. There had been an accident at sea it seems. Her vessel had sunk and she was on the verge of drowning, sharks circling as she floundered. Fortunately for her, Markos was walking on the beach at the time and spotted her.”

“No?!” Kassandra’s gasp was theatrically dramatic, but the narrator didn’t seem to notice. “Whatever did he do?”

“Dived right in!” he continued. “I suppose he must have been a much more athletic chap when he was younger, because, truth be told, he doesn’t look like much of a swimmer now. But out he went, armed with just a single dagger. Fought off two huge sharks and dragged the poor, unconscious child back to shore.”

“What a hero,” Kassandra crossed her arms as Kyra came over to stand beside her. “I wonder that I haven’t heard a song written about this.”

“It can only be that there are no poets here on Kephallonia,” he agreed. “He carried her to his home and nursed her back to health, tending to her day and night, sparing no expense, summoning healers, the scarcest herbs and finest food. And his devotion was rewarded. The girl survived.”

“Praise Apollo,” Kassandra remarked dryly.

“Indeed,” he nodded. “The girl grew to be strong and healthy, and like a daughter to him. She refused to leave the island, wanting to spend her life near to her devoted father figure. He suggested that she use her strength and courage to help the islanders here. She bought this humble dwelling and lived here for the rest of her days.”

“The rest of her days?” Kyra could feel Kassandra almost vibrating with rage alongside her. “Do not, I pray you, tell me that this tale has a tragic ending?” she inquired, tongue firmly in cheek.

“As so many of the greatest tales do, my friend,” he nodded sadly. “One day, whilst out hunting, Kassandra came across a woman and her young child being menaced by a pack of ferocious wolves. Bravely as ever, she rushed to their defense, allowing them to escape, but she was overwhelmed by sheer numbers.”

“I’m almost afraid to hear the end of this story,” Kyra placed a steadying hand on Kassandra’s tensed forearm.

“Not me,” she shook her head. “I’m all ears. What happened next?”

“Well,” he looked quickly at his two friends, their shock seemed to have subsided and they were sitting holding hands, listening with mournful expressions. “Markos was out toiling in his vineyard, as he did every day.”

“Vineyard?” Kyra cocked her head.

“Toiling?” Kassandra raised her eyebrows. “Do go on.”

“He heard the screams and yells and picking up a sharpened hoe he rushed off to see what could be happening,” he paused and fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief, wiping his eyes before he could continue. “Imagine the dreadful sight that met his eyes. His beloved daughter, lying mangled and bleeding, surrounded by the corpses of a number of huge wolves, whilst the three fiercest, having beaten her down at last, tore at her still living flesh. How could a mere man bear such agony?”

“I have no idea,” Kassandra shook her head. “But he told you, I imagine.”

“Reluctantly so, but yes. Enraged beyond all reason he launched himself at the savage beasts, lashing out left and right, till all lay dead. Then, almost blinded by tears, he took his dying daughter in his arms and with her last breath she told him of her love and gratitude and gifted him this humble abode by way of thanks.” He blew his nose and took a deep breath. His two companions were sitting, moist eyed, gazing at their feet and shaking their heads sadly.

“Well, and you may ask my friend here for confirmation if you doubt me,” Kassandra placed a hand on Kyra’s shoulder, “I am not a woman much given to weeping, but your story almost brings tears to my eyes.”

“Who could fail to be moved by a tale of such devotion and tragedy,” he agreed, completely missing her tone. “I am not ashamed to say that I wept myself at the poor man’s suffering.”

“Your tears do you credit, my friend. Imagine! Three wolves,” Kyra said, musingly. “And with just a hoe.”

“And him just a little, tubby fellow too,” Kassandra remarked wryly.

“You know him?” he looked up.

“No, no. But you mentioned that he doesn’t look like much of an athlete,” she shrugged.

“Indeed not, but the measure of a man’s spirit is in his heart and not his physical appearance, no?”

“You are quite correct, my friend,” she nodded. “So, how do you come to be in the courageous Markos’ house?”

“Ah, well, having no need of the place himself,” he wiped his nose and stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. “He decided to allow those less fortunate to make use of it when they had a need.”

“For a reasonable fee, I assume?” Kyra queried.

“Indeed, he must have expenses of course. My friends and I are not from Kephallonia. There is a large project at the boatyard here and we came for work. The lodgings we arranged, well there was a misunderstanding, and we found ourselves sleeping out on the docks. It was there that we had the good fortune to meet with him.”

“Truly the gods were smiling on you that day,” Kassandra rolled her eyes.

“Indeed. I am getting a little old for sleeping on sacks I’m afraid. Poseidon himself must have had his eye upon us,” he smiled.

“And his poor daughter?” Kyra frowned. “What became of her body? Did he mention?”

“He was reluctant to share any of his story. Truly he is as humble as he is brave.”

“He absolutely is,” Kassandra muttered under her breath.

“We had to tease it out of him, like easing a whelk from its shell. But she is buried in the yard of his old home, where she grew up as a child. We went and placed some flowers on her meagre grave ourselves, and offered a prayer. Though I’m sure she has no need of it. One so brave must be dining in Elysium even as we sit here.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of light sniffing from the three men.

“Well, my friends,” Kassandra took a deep breath and stood up straight. “I’m sure Ajax was appreciative of your flowers and prayers, as I am myself.”

“Ajax?” the old man looked up, brows creased in confusion.

“Yes, Ajax, our old donkey,” Kassandra folded her arms. “That was his grave you were paying your respects at. He was a good donkey though, so don’t feel too bad about it. At least tell me that Markos hasn’t put my bloody name on it?”

“What? Donkey? Your name? There is no name there, he said that, like himself, she was a modest soul, who wanted no memorial other than people’s fond remembrance.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” she hissed. “I’ve lost count of the number of times that I’ve said it, but I mean it this time.”

Kyra patted her arm and looked over to the three men. They were shifting awkwardly on their makeshift seats, darting glances at each other, clearly confused.

“This here,” she placed a hand on Kassandra’s shoulder with a theatrical flourish. “Is  _ the _ Kassandra you have heard about. Large as life, and more or less unharmed by any of her many encounters with wolves. She didn’t die here, she left. You can ask any of the people in Sami, they all know her. This is the house she grew up in. It doesn’t belong to Markos at all, I’m afraid. It appears that he has been less than truthful with you. I’m sorry.”

“You’re  _ The _ Kassandra?” he breathed. “I...but he sounded so...convincing. He begged us not to share his story...he…”

“I bet he bloody did,” Kassandra growled. “Don’t tell me. It was too painful for him to keep bringing up? Or he didn’t like to boast of his exploits? I am truly sorry, my friends. For his deception and for roughing you two up earlier,” she gave them an apologetic look. “I wasn’t expecting to find anyone in my old home, except maybe a few rats. I assumed the worst. I’m sorry that we scared you.”

I see,” the old man said quietly, leaning forward and looking at his hands. “I understand. I’m sorry for our intrusion Kassandra. This is very awkward now, of course. I wonder if...would you and your friend care to join us for supper? I have made more than enough for the three of us, there will be plenty to go around. Then..” he looked at his two companions. “Then...no, it’s too much to ask,” he tailed off quietly.

“Ask anyway,” she sighed. “I can only say no.”

“I wondered if you might see your way to letting us stay here, just for tonight? It’s getting late and...we three could sleep on the terrace. You and your friend could take the bedroom if you don’t mind sharing. Then we can pack our things in the morning and go back to the boatyard.”

“You’re not packing anything, my friends,” Kassandra sighed. “We were only going to visit the place tonight for old time’s sake. I can’t see you sleeping on sacks at the docks. You’ve clearly made a home here. Stay until you can find something else. Or until the work is done, whichever. I’m sorry to have interrupted your evening. Truly.”

“Then Markos was at least honest about your generosity of spirit,” he got to his feet, coming over and taking Kassandra’s hand. “Please, stay and take supper with us.”

“It’s a kind offer, friend. But if it’s all right with you Kyra, I’d like to pay a visit to my erstwhile father figure? I’m sure he can put us up for the night, and I’d like to query some of the details of his fascinating story.”

“Oh gods,” the old man rubbed his face wearily. “He’s going to be furious with us for telling you all this, I’m sure.”

“Don’t fret,” Kassandra snorted. “He’ll be fleetingly annoyed that another one of his shifty schemes has fallen through, but he’s used to that. He’s not likely to show his face over here, it’s a bit of a walk for him, and even if he did, well you two,” she nodded at the younger men, “just stand upright and flex those muscles a bit and he’ll be off like a long dog. He’s no fighter. He’s never even had a decent look at a wolf, let alone killed any.”

“Will you at least take him our payment for this week?” he made to go to the door but Kassandra caught his arm gently and stopped him.

“There’ll be no more rent,” she shook her head. “Markos isn’t entitled to it and I neither need it nor want it. Look. There are people less fortunate than yourselves on Kephallonia, and  _ many  _ a good deal less fortunate than Markos, the oily little weasel. Direct a bit of your coin their way, eh? Or put a bit aside for some bigger lodgings, this place was cramped for two, never mind three.”

She took a deep, sighing breath and turned to look at Kyra. She was smiling fondly at her, and meeting her eyes she reached out and took her hand.

“Let’s make a move then shall we, Kassandra?” she gave her hand a squeeze. “This wasn’t quite how I anticipated meeting Markos for the first time, but it’s been a trip full of the unexpected at every step so far.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyra meets Markos and somehow manages to remain unimpressed.

When they’d bid the lodgers goodnight and collected their packs Kassandra took Kyra’s hand and led them off across the field towards a rough, stony path.

“We have a walk ahead of us you say?” Kyra ventured after a while, hoping to coax Kassandra out of her grumpy silence. It seemed to work, she turned to look at her and even in the pale moonlight Kyra could see her expression soften to concern.

“No, not really,” she shook her head. “Are you tired, love? It’s been a longer day than I intended. I could carry you on my back?”

The offer seemed genuine because she was already reaching to take Kyra’s pack from her, but she drew back, laughing fondly.

“That’s a very sweet offer. And now I think about it, I’m surprised we’ve never done that. No. I’ll be glad to get to bed eventually, I don’t deny that, but I’m quite capable of walking. I only asked because you told those men that Markos wouldn’t walk all this way?”

“Oh!” Kassandra nodded her head, enlightened. “Well, that’s true. But Markos wouldn’t walk to the end of the road unless there was a bag of drachmae buried there. And even then he’d get some other poor bugger to go dig it up for him and then swindle them out of their payment.”

“He sounds more charming with every anecdote,” Kyra remarked dryly.

“Well, here’s another for you,” Kassandra guided her around a pot hole in the road. She’d clearly made this journey so many times over the years that she knew every rock and divot, even in the dim light. “This vineyard we’re going to? I paid for half of it, without even knowing.”

“He stole money from you?” Kyra tilted her head, frowning.

“He doesn’t really consider it stealing,” Kassandra explained, holding Kyra’s hand a little more securely as the path began to slope upwards towards the borders of the vineyard. “It was money that he owed me for work I’d done, but he’d weaseled his way out of paying me. When I eventually turned up to collect, he’d spent it on a down payment for this damn place. Seeing as the money was never in my pocket at any stage, he doesn’t really think of it as stealing.”

“So, half of this place is yours really?” Kyra looked around, underwhelmed.

“I suppose so. Half of a vineyard that only produces lousy vinegar,” Kassandra shook her head.

“Well it’s never likely to improve,” Kyra stopped and bent to take a handful of soil. “Not really. This isn’t the soil for grapevines.” She got to her feet, brushing the dust from her hands. “He’d have to invest some serious money and labour into enriching all the topsoil, it would take huge quantities of manure, time to break down, workers to dig over the whole place. It would take years to produce halfway decent wine here.”

She gave her hands a final dust on the skirt of her chiton, picked up her pack and took Kassandra’s hand again. They’d walked on a little way and the big, central house was in view when she half turned and gave Kassandra a knowing look.

“I don’t really get the impression that Markos is the sort of man who would be prepared to put in the time and the work to make anything of this place?” she heard Kassandra’s dismissive snort. “So...wouldn’t you rather have your money back?” She was rewarded with a louder snort this time.

“I gave up on ever seeing that money long ago. You can wear yourself out flogging a dead horse, you know.”

“I’m sure that was what he was counting on,” Kyra smiled, “and then you made it even easier for him by leaving. But how is he ever to learn the error of his ways, if he never experiences any consequences?”

“Well, fortunately I don’t really need the money anymore, though it would have been nice to have had something to leave behind for Phoibe when I first set off...which reminds me,” she stopped suddenly. “I want a word with _her_ as well! She must have known about him letting out the place. Now I understand why she was so eager to go racing off into the night to sleep at Markos’, the little weasel. She’s spending way too much time around him, he’s teaching her bad habits,” she scowled. “The pair of them are going to be getting a piece of my mind,” she muttered darkly as they approached the house.

“In fact…” she was interrupted by a portly, bearded figure rushing round the corner of the building. Looking back over his shoulder he didn’t see them approach and thudded right into Kassandra’s chest, knocking the wind out of both of them for a moment. She regained her composure first and grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him at arm’s length, frowning.

“And just where are you rushing off to in such a hurry at this time of night, Markos?”

“Kassandra!” he exclaimed, eyes darting shiftily. “What a truly delightful surprise.”

“A surprise eh?” she scowled. “Didn’t Phoibe get here then?”

“Phoibe?” he evaded. “Oh! Phoibe! Yes. Why yes, now you come to mention it, she did come by, exhausted after a day’s...well doing whatever she gets up to when she’d snaking her way out her chores here,” he couldn’t resist grumbling. “Anyway, she had a bite to eat and went off to bed.”

“Without a word?” Kassandra arched a brow.

“What?” he smiled twitchily. “Er...no, no. She said quite a few words. In fact she did mention that you were visiting. I just wasn’t expecting you to come and see me so quickly...or so late at night...and with a lovely companion?” he glanced hopefully around her shoulder towards Kyra who was standing back a few paces, arms folded, sizing him up. “Aren’t you going to introduce me? I taught you better manners than that, eh?”

Kassandra released her grip on his shoulders and pushed him back a step.

“Kyra?” she tilted her head towards her but kept her eyes on Markos. “I’d like you to meet Markos, the heroic father figure who snatched me from the jaws of hungry sharks,” even in the moonlight they could see him growing pale. “Markos? This is Kyra, my lover, I’ve brought her to meet everyone here, and she was very eager to make your acquaintance.”

“Really, really?” he made his way over, keeping a weather eye on Kassandra. “Well, what a very great pleasure and such an unexpected surprise.”

“Aren’t all surprises unexpected, Markos?” Kassandra leaned back against the wall, arms and ankles crossed. “Isn’t that the nature of a surprise? They’re very like a shock in that respect, no?”

“Mmm,” Kyra nodded. “Like finding your beloved daughter being devoured alive by ferocious wolves? That would be a shock.”

“Ah!” he grinned nervously holding up a placating hand in Kassandra’s direction. “Ha ha ha. I see someone’s been telling tales out of school? Those rascals! I told them that in confidence.”

“You can hardly blame them,” Kassandra was examining her fingernails with studied casualness. “It’s a hell of a story. I was holding my breath myself, right up to the point where you buried me with the bloody donkey. _I_ buried that donkey! For Phoibe. Your story had me dig my own grave, Markos!”

“I can explain that. They’re nice fellows and they wanted to pay their respects. I had to think on my feet. You liked that donkey, no? I didn’t think that you’d mind.”

“Oh, believe me, I don’t begrudge Ajax a bunch of flowers,” Kassandra advanced towards him and he backed away slowly, edging nearer to Kyra with every step. “You, on the other hand! You rented out my house behind my back.”

“Well you weren’t here,” he protested. “No one knew when you’d be back, or even if you’d be back. And those poor chaps were sleeping out in all weathers. You wouldn’t have wanted that. Look, why don’t we go inside. It’s dark out here and you’ve had a bit of a walk, both of you. Let’s go inside and have something to eat and drink.”

It appeared that Markos had been about to leave in a hurry. There were lamps still lit and food on the table.

“Sit, sit!” he urged, pulling out a chair for Kyra and watching as Kassandra stowed their packs by the door. “You were planning on sleeping there tonight?” he ventured, pouring wine for the three of them and taking a seat beside Kyra.

“That was the plan,” Kassandra pushed aside her cup of wine and poured water for herself. “I wouldn’t drink that, love,” she warned as Kyra raised the cup to her lips and took a sip.

“It’s very good actually,” she raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised.

“See?” he grinned, brightening. “I told you this place would turn out to be a gold mine. It just took a little patience and perseverance.”

Kassandra followed Kyra’s lead and took an experimental sip herself. She wasn’t much of a connoisseur but it certainly tasted a good deal better than anything Markos had ever produced before. She had other things on her mind right now though.

“Yes, that was the plan,” she repeated. “So imagine our surprise when we found that someone was there ahead of us.”

“I can see how that would have been a bit of a shock,” he nodded. “But I was looking out for those less fortunate. And they’re such nice fellows, no? By the way, I don’t suppose that they sent you with anything for me?” he queried hopefully.

“Like your rent?” Kassandra scowled over the rim of her cup. “There’ll be no more rent, Markos. I’ve made that clear to them and now I’m making it equally clear to you.”

“What?” he was pushing a bowl of olives towards Kyra and looked up startled and clearly ready to protest. Whatever he saw in Kassandra’s eyes made him change his mind. “But...well...yes, of course. If you insist. This one here,” he gave Kyra what he hoped was a charming smile, but she seemed unmoved. “Once she’s made up her mind about something, there’s no swaying her. She’s been the same ever since I found her on the beach all those years ago, poor raggedy assed little urchin.”

“Was that after the sharks spat me out then?” Kassandra put down her cup and gave him a hard look.

“Oh now, don’t let’s keep going on about that. It was just a fisherman’s tale. Everyone embroiders the truth a bit when they’re telling a story. I tell you what!” he suggested, as though the idea had only just occurred to him. “Why don’t the two of you stay here for the night? You won’t mind sharing with Phoibe?”

“It’s not that we mind sharing with Phoibe,” Kassandra folded her arms. “I’m just wondering why we need to, considering that you have a couple of spare rooms upstairs?”

“Ah, well, ordinarily, yes,” he steepled his fingers and nodded. “But as it happens I am right in the middle of a business arrangement at the moment, and it necessitates the use of those two rooms for storage.”

“A business arrangement?” Kyra put down her cup and turned in her seat to face him. “Are you allowed to share the details or is it a secret?”

“Not a secret at all,” he shook his head, chewing on an olive. “But I wouldn’t want to bore you with the tedious details.”

“Oh you wouldn’t be boring me, not at all,” Kyra smiled, a good deal more charmingly than Markos.

“Kyra is a...business woman herself,” Kassandra decided that he wasn’t the only one who could embroider the truth.

“Indeed?” he gave Kyra an appraising look and Kassandra watched with amusement as she returned an innocently affable smile and shrugged.

“Yes, you could say that. I’m not here on business, of course, simply to see where Kassandra grew up, and to meet her friends. But, as I’m sure you know Markos, a business person is always on the lookout for an opportunity.”

“Quite right, quite right,” he patted her hand and refilled her cup. “I was always saying this to Kassandra, there are no days off for the enthusiastic entrepreneur. Olive?” he offered the bowl. “I saw that you noticed the quality of my current vintage right away, you have a very discerning palate clearly. Not like this one,” he jerked a thumb in Kassandra’s direction. “You could put any old swill in front of her, and she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. But you are clearly a lady of refinement.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Kyra lowered her eyes, modestly.

“Now, now, don’t be so humble,” he snatched the plate of biscuits from Kassandra’s hand and placed it in front of Kyra. “It’s readily apparent. The way you speak, the way you carry yourself, gods know what you’re doing with Kassandra here. You’re clearly a woman who would know a good deal when one presented itself. I am currently holding a sampling for my finest wine. Any number of buyers have made the journey to avail themselves of this opportunity. This would be a wonderful chance for you to get in on the ground floor. Obviously any friend of Kassandra’s is a friend of mine. Perhaps you would like to attend the gathering tomorrow? I can assure you that I’d be prepared to come to a very attractive arrangement with you,” he waggled his eyebrows.

“Eurgh!” Kassandra shuddered.

“About the wine!” he gave her a sharp look. “Don’t be vulgar in front of our guest. In fact Kassandra, this would work out very well. If you stay overnight, you could do a little something for me? One of the gates around back? The hinges need replacing. You’re good with your hands.”

“So I’ve been told,” she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, shooting a swift smirk at Kyra.

“What did I just say?” Markos hissed. “This is what comes of spending so much time in a whoreho…”

“Don’t even start, Markos,” she warned. “I don’t want to trek back to Selene’s, I’m tired, but I will do, and Kyra will be with me.”

“A fine estate like this,” Kyra intervened, placing a soothing hand on Markos’ arm. “Surely you have staff to perform maintenance tasks?”

“Indeed I do, of course,” he recovered his poise quickly. “But my fellow has a couple of days off each week, I’m generous to a fault. A fool to myself really. Anyway if I bring him in to mend that gate, he’ll try and charge me for a full day’s pay, it’s only an hour’s job at most. And Kassandra likes doing things with her ha...doing things for her old Uncle Markos,” he swerved around the innuendo just in time.

“Uncle Markos is it now?” Kassandra rolled her eyes. “Not “her dear old dad”?''

“Oh now...don’t take offense at that,” he wheedled. “You know that you’ve always been like a daughter to me.”

“Is that right?” she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Look, I’ll fix your damn gate, all right. Just to shut you up. Why don’t you show us to our room now? It’s been a long evening.”

“Of course, of course,” he sounded relieved. “How remiss of me, you must be exhausted Kyra. Phoibe mentioned that you’d traveled from Mykonos?” he got to his feet and picked up one of the lanterns as he opened the door to lead them to the bedroom. “Get the bags, Kassandra,” he nodded curtly. “That’s quite a journey. But there must be myriad opportunities for commerce in a place like the Silver Islands, no? They recognise a quality product when they sip it, I imagine?”

“Oh, indeed,” Kyra managed to pick out the wheat from the chaff of his rambling.

No doubt this was the main weapon in his arsenal. If he bombarded his marks with sufficient meaningless chit chat they were less likely to see the bear trap of deception he was laying in their path. She turned and watched as Kassandra gave a resigned sigh and shouldered their packs before following them upstairs.

“In fact,” Kyra continued, “there are any number of connoisseurs on both islands. Wine isn’t my stock in trade personally, mind you,” she added quickly as they came to the top of the stairs.

“No, no, of course not,” he stopped on the landing to wait for them to join him. “But you recognise a quality vintage I’m sure?”

Kyra paused for a moment before speaking.

“Of course. I drink enough wine in the course of my...business, that I can recognise a good product. I can even identify certain vineyards,” she ventured cautiously, putting out a tentative feeler. It was entirely possible that Markos was smarter than she had given him credit for, she realised. He had to be smarter than he looked at least. It was a rash move to underestimate an opponent in business as well as battle.

As he turned and raised the lantern to look at her with narrowed eyes she wondered if she was right. Perhaps she’d shown too much of her hand too soon? But almost immediately his eyes glittered with shifty eagerness and she decided that her initial impression had been correct. He wasn’t all that bright and clearly so consumed by greedy self interest that he couldn’t see further than the end of his nose.

“So? What did you think of my vintage?” he grinned hopefully.

Kyra took a breath and assumed what she hoped was an expression of innocent consideration, as Kassandra wearily mounted the final steps and stopped behind her.

“Well, Markos,” she pretended deep concentration. “Admittedly I’m rather tired and I wasn’t expecting to be asked to assess wine,” she gave him an apologetic smile. “But I can honestly say, hand on heart,” she matched action to words, “that it reminded me very much of some of the better wines back home. One from Delos in particular. Very impressive,” she watched his reaction closely.

“I knew it!” he beamed with delight. “What did I tell you, Kassandra?”

“I don’t know, Markos,” she sighed heavily. “You tell me so many things. What was it this time?”

“I told you that this place would make my fortune,” he laughed, turning and walking off down the corridor, lamp light bobbing as he went. “You don’t know how to grow grapes, they all said. Making wine is a science and an art, they said, ha! Perhaps you’d be good enough to share your expert opinion with my buyers tomorrow, Kyra? That would be most valuable. And in return I’m sure that we can come to an arrangement? I’m absolutely sure I can provide you with a steady supply at a far more competitive price than your Delos fellow. Well, here we are!” he announced, stopping by a very unprepossessing door.

“What the hell is this, Markos?” Kassandra grumbled as he placed a finger to his lips and shushed before carefully easing open the door.

The lamplight revealed a mid sized room that was obviously used for storage. There were a number of crates and boxes piled around the walls, dust sheets bundled on top of them, a threadbare old couch, a chair missing a leg, and against one wall a small camp bed. Curled up under a thin blanket, back towards them, was Phoibe, fast asleep.

“Quiet now,” he whispered. “We don’t want to wake her up, eh? She’ll keep Kyra up half the night with her chattering. It’s a good thing you have your bedrolls there,” he nodded as Kassandra placed the bundles quietly on the floor. “Or we’d have had to go find a mattress for Kyra. Though, having said that, you should sleep on the couch, my dear,” he waved a hand in its direction. “Stay off the floor, you’ll be more comfortable.”

Kyra eyed the thick covering of dust and gave Kassandra an unconvinced look.

“He means that there’s probably rats,” she untied the bedrolls and kicked them flat.

“Well they’re not likely to come trotting around with the room full of people now are they?” he defended, turning down the lamp and placing it on the chair.

“And blankets?” Kassandra sighed, hands on hips.

“Plenty over there,” he indicated the pile of cloths on top of the boxes.

“They’re bloody dust sheets, Markos,” she protested. “And you’d have been better off draping them over that couch. Look at the state of it.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” he sniffed, making for the door. “Especially you, it seems. I shall go and find a blanket for Kyra, of course. I don’t know what you’re complaining about, you’re used to roughing it. And what were you going to use if you’d been sleeping at your old place? Fine linens?”

Kassandra was tired, angry and frustrated. She had her mouth open, ready to begin an argument, but she felt Kyra place a soothing hand on her forearm, stroking gently.

“He makes a good point Kassandra. There’s a blanket in my pack, remember? We can make do with that. It’s been a long day, let’s get some sleep.”

“This young woman here,” Markos wagged a finger in her direction. “The voice of reason! You’d do well to take a few lessons from her my fiery young friend. Now get some sleep. Perhaps you could mend that chair in the morning as well?” he nodded at it. “Kyra?” he gave her an ingratiating smile. “The room opposite, with the green door? I’ll put some towels and a wash bowl in there for you, so you can freshen up in the morning. Kassandra and Phoibe will be busy with their chores first thing, so perhaps you and I can discuss business together over breakfast.”

“Well he’s even more charming than I imagined,” Kyra said when he’d left, keeping her voice low out of consideration for Phoibe. She really didn’t want Kassandra sounding off at the girl right now if she woke up. “Your chores, eh?”

Kassandra said nothing, but Kyra heard her heave a big sigh, followed by a dull thud as she banged her head against the door.

“I’m so sorry Kyra,” she murmured quietly. “There’s not one damn thing about this trip that’s gone right so far, and I can’t help feeling that it’s mainly my fault.”

"Well, you’re not entirely wrong, my love,” Kyra shook out the blanket that she’d bundled in her pack and draped it over the thin bedrolls. It made for a meagre looking bed, but she’d slept in worse. “In fact I think you could make the argument that it’s all your fault, actually,” she dragged her chiton over her head and began to roll it loosely. When she looked up from placing her makeshift pillow at the head of the bed, Kassandra had turned to face her, wearing a rueful smile.

“You’re right,” she nodded. “This is all because of my stupid letter,” she shook her head.

“It’s all right, Kassandra,” Kyra began to laugh. “I didn’t fall for your epistolary talents after all. If you’d ever written me a letter, I suppose I might have been able to predict the danger here. But you never did,” she cocked her head.

“Really? You’re going to have a go at me about that? Think about it. You’d either have burnt it without reading it, or torn a strip off me for doing something so risky, depending on where we were in our relationship at the time.”

She made a fair point, Kyra conceded, leaning against the couch to take off her boots as Kassandra strode over the bedrolls towards her.

“You know,” she looked down at the roughly rolled chiton. “That’s going to get all creased if you sleep on it.”

“Well if you think I’m making a pillow out of one of those dust sheets, you’re sadly mistaken. How the hell is everything so dusty in here? There aren’t even any windows.”

“No, I’m well aware of that,” Kassandra was trying not to think about their absence. She didn’t much like sleeping in a room with no windows. Much less no windows and only one door. “You don’t need a pillow though,” she put such thoughts to the back of her mind. “You can curl up next to me and rest your head on my chest,” she caught Kyra by the hips and pulled her in close. “Or any other part of my anatomy that takes your fancy,” she smirked, bending and pressing a kiss to Kyra’s neck.

“Is that right?” she laughed. “I’ll consider it. We should try and get some sleep now,” she reached up and stroked Kassandra’s cheek. “I’m sure Markos will be rapping on the door at cockcrow to get you mending the roof or something.”

“Very likely,” Kassandra made no move to relax her hold on Kyra’s hips, if anything she pulled her in even more tightly. “But I’m not sure how much sleep we’re likely to get between the bed and the dust clouds. So, we could just make the most of a poor situation,” she growled, nosing at Kyra’s neck.

“Don’t start, Kassandra,” Kyra drew back a little and looked pointedly over in Phoibe’s direction.

“We could be really...really quiet,” Kassandra slipped her hands down to Kyra’s ass and squeezed firmly.

“Keeping quiet is not one of your strong suits, not in bed anyway,” Kyra shook her head, placing her hands lightly on Kassandra’s chest and rearing back a bit to look at her. Even in the dim light, she could see the playfully wolfish look about her eyes and lips.

“I’m pretty sure that you could think of a way to silence me,” she growled. “Gods, do you know how many days it’s been, Kyra?”

“I don’t, but I have a feeling that you’re going to tell me.”

“Seventeen,” Kassandra traced the whorls of Kyra’s ear with the tip of her tongue. “Seventeen nights of you right there and out of reach. Why don’t we get you out of these constricting underclothes and break the dry spell, eh?”

She made a move for the knot of Kyra’s strophion and for one chilling moment she thought that Kassandra was going to do it, that she’d forgotten about Phoibe just a few feet away, that she was going to have to smack some sense into her before she could get too carried away. Then she saw her wink.

“You know, you don’t have to wear these for me,” Kassandra raised her voice just a shade. “It would be so much more convenient if you just…”

“All right! That’s enough!” Phoibe jolted upright in bed and Kassandra released her hold of Kyra and spun round to face her, an accusatory finger outstretched.

“Ah ha! I knew it!” she grinned, “I knew you weren’t asleep. You over cooked it Phoibe. Too still, too slow, too regular.”

“What?” Phoibe rubbed her eyes and gave a puzzled squint.

“No one is that still when they’re asleep, especially not you. You’re a twitchy little thing when you’re sleeping.”

“I didn’t know he was going to put you in here,” she sounded defensive. “I thought he’d have another empty room for you.”

“You thought we’d be in another room, eh?” Kassandra crossed her arms and frowned. “Odd. Considering that you said you were leaving us to have a romantic night together in a grubby shack?”

Phoibe had shifted to sit up now and swung her legs over the side of the bed, not meeting Kassandra’s gaze.

“You know, I’m really tired,” Kyra interjected. “I’m going to get some sleep,” she glanced over at the couch. However uninviting it looked, it was the farthest place she could retreat to. “I’ll give you two some space to sort this out between you.”

She padded over and eyed it without much enthusiasm. It would be just about long enough if she bent her legs a bit. Lying down, she stifled a sneeze as the dust tickled her nostrils. She made herself as comfy as was possible, lying with her back to the room. There was no way that she was going to be able to sleep, given the circumstances, but she could make a better job of feigning it than Phoibe had managed, she was sure.

“How long has this been going on?” Kassandra had barely acknowledged Kyra’s withdrawal.

“How long has _what_ been going on?” Phoibe mumbled, not looking up.

“It’s a bit late in the day to try and be evasive,” Kassandra sounded stern. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t think there was any point before, it’s not like you used the place when you came to visit.”

“So you were just never going to mention it? You could have said something at any point, Phoibe. In one of Selene’s letters,” it suddenly occurred to her that Phoibe might have had a very good reason for not choosing that route. “And if you didn’t want to talk to Selene about Markos,” her voice softened slightly. “You could have put a little note inside. You do that all the time. Telling me what you’ve been up to, drawing pictures for me. I really like it when you send me those notes, Phoibe. I’ve saved all of them. You could have just mentioned it.”

“I didn’t know what to say,” she twisted the corner of the blanket between anxious fingers. “I knew that you’d be cross.”

Phoibe really hadn’t been given much agency in the matter. When Markos had set her to, sweeping out the place and giving a few parts a fresh coat of limewash, she’d assumed that it was for Kassandra’s benefit. By the time she realized what his real motivation was, the men were already there.

“Then why didn’t you bring it up today? We had all that time together while we were repairing the wall.”

“I didn’t think there was any point,” Phoibe could feel a lump forming in her throat. If she was honest, in all the excitement of Kassandra’s arrival she’d forgotten all about the business of her old home.

“Tonight, then?” Kassandra persisted. “You could have said something before we set out with our packs like a pair of idiots!”

Kyra could hear the slight hitch in Phoibe’s voice as she replied. Just to be on the safe side, she feigned a sleepy snuffle and fidgeted her legs a little as though settling into sleep.

“I didn’t know that we were going there!” Phoibe protested weakly. She could feel her lower lip threatening to tremble. “I thought we were going camping. You didn’t say anything until we were right there, and then it was too late.”

Kassandra dropped her hands to her hips and exhaled slowly. That had probably been her fault, she decided. But she suddenly remembered stalking across her own yard to slip an arm around the throat of an aroused and astonished shipwright.

“It wasn’t too late until we were right at the door, Phoibe,” she sighed. “Instead you turned tail and raced off to tell Markos. You left us, totally oblivious. I sneaked into my own home and nearly roughed up an innocent man, Phoibe. Did you think of that?”

“I thought you’d be cross,” she still couldn’t meet Kassandra’s eye, but she shot a quick glance over to the couch where Kyra was laid, back to them, foot twitching occasionally. “And I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like I could stop Markos. He didn’t even tell me what he was doing until he’d done it. And what were you going to do even if I did tell you? Come straight back and chase them out?” she added, resentfully. “By the time I knew where we were going...I didn’t know what to say...I was scared that you’d be cross with me.”

Kyra could hear how close to tears she was. That was enough now, she decided. Ultimately no one had been hurt. It was inconvenient, but the girl was sorry. She was just about to break cover and intervene on her behalf when she heard Kassandra sigh softly.

“Phoibe? When have I ever been cross with you?” she asked quietly.

Kyra could imagine the gentle tilt of her head as she asked.

“That time with the bear, when I dressed up like a monster and you nearly shot me,” she reminded her, voice hitching.

“That was different,” Kassandra protested. “I was shocked. I could have killed you.”

“Well, that time I fell off the tanner’s roof.”

“You could have killed _yourself_!” her voice raised in indignation.

“When I found that dead snake?” Phoibe was unsuccessfully trying to rein in sobs now.

“I told you, Phoibe,” Kassandra held out her hands. “They can still have a dose of venom in them. They’re not safe while they still have…” she tailed off, seeing tears dripping from Phoibe’s nose onto the blanket. “Oh, little one.”

Hearing the softening of her voice, Kyra relaxed. From the change of direction she could tell that Kassandra had moved to crouch in front of Phoibe.

“And now you’re cross with me anyway,” she sobbed. “I just wanted us to have a nice time, and I didn't want you to be upset and now you’re all angry and I’m sorry, but I didn't know what to say.”

“Hey, hey now,” Kassandra moved to sit beside her on the bed. It creaked alarmingly in protest and she waited a moment just to make sure that they weren’t both going to end up on the floor. “Look. Don’t cry now. I’m not angry. I mean I was, but I’m not angry now. And I wasn’t really angry with you...it was just awkward and a bit embarrassing, blundering in there like that,” she fished about in her pocket and found a handkerchief. “Here. Dry your eyes now, there’s nothing to cry about.”

Kyra heard the sound of Phoibe sniffling and blowing her nose. Under her breath she willed Kassandra to give the girl a hug, to say something loving.

“Look, Phoibe. All those times you mentioned? When I was cross with you? They were all because you’d scared me. I thought you were going to get hurt. And when I get scared...well sometimes it comes out like that. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that I’ve upset you now,” she reached out and tucked a lock of Phoibe’s hair behind her ear. “You know how much I care about you, don’t you?” she tilted her head hopefully to meet her watery eyes. “It would break my heart if anything happened to you. That’s why I get scared sometimes. But I’m never cross with you, little hunter. Not really. And not now, I swear.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t say something,” Phoibe looked up at last and offered her back the handkerchief. Kassandra shook her head, smiling. “I thought you’d be angry with me because I hadn’t stopped Markos from doing it. But I swear I didn’t know. I thought he was getting it ready for you.”

“That’s enough now,” Kassandra put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “Stop apologising. None of this was your fault. Wiser...well perhaps not wiser, but older people than you have been hoodwinked by Markos. Let’s forget about it now, eh? You can help me mend a gate in the morning, no? That’s useful to know how to do?” she ventured hopefully.

Phoibe nodded, calmer now, and inched a little closer to her, till she was leaning against her. Kassandra considered for a moment and then strengthened her hold and pulled her in close.

“Kassandra?” Phoibe sounded anxious. “There...well...there was another reason I didn’t want to say anything,” she shot up a quick, nervous glance. “Those men, who were there? They had nowhere to go, something went wrong with the place they were supposed to be staying. And they’re really nice. You...you didn’t hurt them, did you?”

“Gods, no,” she gave her a squeeze. “Scared the wits out of them, but that was when I thought they were thieves. They’re fine. We parted on good terms, I promise.”

“Where will they sleep now?” Phoibe asked thoughtfully.

“In the house,” Kassandra laughed. “I wasn’t going to kick them out when I found out what had been going on. What kind of a creature do you take me for?” she ruffled her hair fondly.

“A satyr?” Phoibe risked playfully, giving her a smile.

“Hey!” Kassandra laughed, nudging her lightly. “There aren’t women satyrs anyway, so you’ll have to think again.” She eased her back a little to look at her seriously. “Are you feeling better now?” she asked. “Are we good?”

Phoibe answered her with a nod, suddenly a little tearful again. “We’re good,” she wound her arms about Kassandra’s neck and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry that you have to sleep in here. We can keep the lamp on,” she suggested, her voice almost a whisper.

“Thank you, little one,” Kassandra patted her back softly. “Actually I think we might have to, or we’ll never be able to find the door. Come on now. It’s very late. Time we were all in bed, asleep.”

Kyra heard alarming creaking as Kassandra got to her feet and began to tuck Phoibe up under the blanket.

“Will you sit with me? Please? Just for a few minutes?” she caught her hand as she made to stand.

“Of course,” Kassandra nodded. “Just for a few minutes,” she settled back down, and watched as Phoibe snuggled against the threadbare pillow and closed her eyes.

It took no more than those few minutes before she was genuinely asleep, exhausted by the tension of the evening. Kassandra pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and bent to press a soft kiss to her head before standing and stretching. Giving a huge yawn she pulled off her tunic and folded it neatly, before looking around for somewhere to place it that wasn’t coated in dust. Shaking her head she decided to follow Kyra’s lead and placed it on the bedroll, before lying down. She was quiet for a moment, hands behind her head, watching the soft shadows flickering on the ceiling. At last she spoke.

“I know that you’re not asleep either, Kyra. And that couch doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“It’s not,” she laughed, turning her head. “There’s something sticking into my hip and I’ll be honest, I’m a bit scared to look at this point.”

“Come and share my luxurious bedroll then, my love” Kassandra laughed quietly, folding back the blanket.

“Do you promise to behave yourself?” Kyra got to her feet, brushing a coating of dust from her side.

“If you agree to stop wafting that dust in my direction, I swear I’ll be a priestess of Artemis the entire night. Or what’s left of it,” she moved aside a little to make room for Kyra. “Is it permissible to cuddle?” she ventured playfully.

“Well, I’ve no idea what the priestesses get up to on their own time,” Kyra smiled. “But I’m certainly going to permit it,” she snuggled in close against her, wrapping an arm about Kassandra’s waist and resting her head on her chest.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that Markos is nothing if not consistent.

Waking later, Kyra reached out, eyes still closed and felt about for Kassandra. Even as she did though, she knew she was alone. The bed felt colder and emptier, as well as a lot less comfortable than she would like she decided, opening her eyes and remembering where she was. The lamp light was low, the flame guttering as it consumed the last dregs of the oil.

Kyra sat up, brushing her hair back from her eyes and looked around. The room was stuffy and smelt of dust and she had no idea how long she’d slept. Quite a while, she reasoned, judging by the state of the lamp. Though there was no guarantee that Markos has filled it before leaving it with them.

The thought of Markos brought back memories of the previous night’s events, drawing forth a sigh. When Kyra had lain down on the bedroll and snuggled close next to her, Kassandra had been particularly affectionate, she smiled at the recollection. She’d held her close and caressed her back gently as they talked. She’d even begun to teach Kyra a couple of songs that Myrrine had sung to her when she was younger. The melodies came back to her now as she recalled drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of Kassandra’s pleasant singing voice, the soft touch of her hand on her back.

It had been a stressful evening all told but thankfully it had ended all right, she thought, getting to her feet and looking around her. Phoibe’s bed had been folded and propped up against the wall, her pack neatly rolled beside it, her bow resting nearby. Kassandra’s tunic was gone, so she was also clearly up and about. Before she’d left she’d taken Phoibe’s blanket and draped it over Kyra for a little extra warmth in her absence.

As she pulled on her chiton, a little creased just as Kassandra had predicted, and packed away their blankets and bedrolls, she ran through the events with Phoibe. Kassandra had handled it pretty well, she decided. Admittedly she’d begun proceedings a little angrily, but she hadn’t raised her voice that much, or resorted to insulting Markos. Her annoyance at Phoibe’s evasion had passed quickly and they’d finished on good terms, Kassandra sitting by the girl’s side till she’d drifted off to sleep. 

That was all a good indicator of how things were likely to progress wasn’t it, she thought? Families had disagreements all the time. She remembered her own blistering rows with an overprotective Praxos as she entered her teenage years. You argued, then you talked things out, tried to see each other’s point of view. It wasn’t dissimilar to negotiations as Archon after all. It was important to enter discussions knowing what you wanted to say and to achieve, but it was always best to try and hear out the other person, to try and understand where they were coming from. She’d always made better decisions when she’d tried to understand her opponents. 

It could be just the same with Phoibe, she decided. They could make this work between them. It was early days still, the three of them circling warily, trying to calculate their new positions, but it would be worth the effort and the occasional setbacks. Nothing worth building was ever constructed overnight, she comforted herself.

She should avail herself of Markos’ washing facilities and go to see what Kassandra and Phoibe were up to. Should she delay Markos’ breakfast date and go help them with their tasks first, or would it be better to let them have some time alone together?

She hadn’t decided yet as she walked into the wash room and winced at the brightness. It was light and airy after the store room and she was shocked at how high the sun had risen. She’d been asleep for a good while after all. 

There was a large open window in the wall opposite and she could hear Kassandra’s voice drifting in through it. Kyra smiled, her heart warming at the sound. If she were blind and in a crowded room she was confident that she’d be able to locate Kassandra immediately, the moment she began to speak. And there was Phoibe’s light, now familiar voice. They were deep in conversation, too low for Kyra to make out what was being said, but their words were occasionally punctuated by the bright sound of hammer on metal. They were mending that gate.

She walked over to the window to watch them, just as Markos’ voice joined the conversation. He was complaining about something. Kyra had only known him for a couple of hours but she already suspected that _aggrieved_ was one of his fall back positions, that and wheedling. She stepped aside a little, so as to be out of their field of vision and watched as he strutted over, waving a hand.

“It doesn’t take two of you to mend a gate!”

“But Kassandra’s teaching me how to...” Phoibe looked up from her position crouching beside her.

“Well she can play tutor on her own time,” he braced his hands on his hips and frowned.

“Actually this  _ is _ my own time,” Kassandra shot a quick, irritated glance in his direction. “My time is  _ all  _ my time. It’s not like you’re paying me to do this.  _ I’m _ doing  _ you _ a favour remember, though Hera knows why.”

“Oh gods, here we go,” he rolled his eyes. “Banging on about money,  _ again _ _!_ You can be very tiresome at times, do you know that?” 

“Then get back inside and leave us to it,” Kassandra grumbled. “That way I can be tiresome on my own time as well.”

“Very droll. I need Phoibe to go run an errand for me.”

“Oh, Markos!” Phoibe groaned. “I want to find out how to do this. It could be useful you know.”

“Useful? Any idiot with a strong arm could do it.”

“Well you’ve got half of the relevant qualifications, Markos,” Kassandra didn’t look up from her work. “Why don’t you give it a go?”

“You don’t keep a dog and bark yourself,” he pointed out irritably. “And right now I’ve got two dogs barking at the same thing. Run and get me some cheese, Phoibe. And while you’re there remind that skinflint that he still owes me for those olives. He’s hoping that I’ll forget.”

“Oh, but Markos,” Phoibe sighed, but she was already getting to her feet, Kyra noticed, displeased. “I haven’t even had any breakfast yet. Can’t we have something to eat and then I’ll go, I promise.”

“He’ll be off into town by then,” he snapped. “And then he’ll be telling you he has no money on him. No, go do it now. You’ll have a better appetite after a run, no?”

“We’ll finish here and then we’ll go get your money,” Kassandra suggested. “I’ll come with you Phoibe. You shouldn’t be sending her to collect your debts, Markos. It can be dangerous. People get irritated when your name comes up...for some reason.”

“That’s precisely why I send her,” he smirked. “They’re not going to get aggressive with a little girl after all. Run along now,” he patted Phoibe’s head. “We can have breakfast when you get back.”

“Markos!” Kassandra got to her feet, the big hammer hanging weightless in her hand.

“It’s all right,” Phoibe hopped between them quickly. “I’ll go now Kassandra. It’s not that far really. And I go for a run every day. I missed yesterday, this will make up for it,” she looked up at her hopefully. “By the time I get back you’ll have mended the gate and we can have breakfast. It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“There you go,” he nodded, looking smug. “You heard her. She doesn’t mind. You’re always happy to do a favour for your old Uncle Markos, eh Phoibe?” he patted her cheek.

“Did you save _ her _ from sharks as well?” Kassandra slapped the hammer against her thigh, annoyance simmering.

“There you go again,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s always the same with you. You’re like a dog with an old bone, you can never let go of anything. Run along now, Phoibe. The quicker you set off, the quicker you’ll get back.”

“Hey, Phoibe!” Kassandra stopped her before she’d taken more than a few paces. “Go and get some bread to eat on the way. I don’t want you running off on an empty stomach. Take some dates or something.”

Markos seemed about to open his mouth to complain again, but something about the way Kassandra was casually swinging that lump hammer made him think again.

From her position by the window Kyra’s previous feelings of affectionate curiosity had faded. There wasn’t much about this whole business that she liked very much, and it had suddenly reminded her of the wine tasting that Markos had been talking about. Washing quickly, braiding her hair and smoothing the worst of the creases from her chiton she went downstairs and found her way to the kitchen where they’d talked the previous night.

Markos was washing cups as she entered, but hearing her he turned and beamed.

“Ah good morning Kyra, my lovely emissary of Dionysus. I trust you slept well? Kassandra and Phoibe are just completing a couple of little jobs, as soon as they’re finished we can have some breakfast. A drink, some bread while you wait?”

“No. Thank you Markos,” she shook her head. “I think I’ll go and say good morning to Kassandra first, she left while I was still sleeping.”

“Remarkably considerate of her, given that she’s a bit grumpy this morning,” he frowned. “Mind you, she’s frequently a bit grumpy, and not just in the morning either. But then, you’re probably well aware of that if you’ve known her for any length of time.”

“I’ve known her for some considerable time now, actually. And to be frank, she’s generally seemed very affable and obliging to me,” she crossed her arms. “Perhaps she’s hungry?”

“Probably,” he missed her body language. “She’s always hungry. Same as when she was a girl. Damn near ate me out of house and home. But it was worth it in the end though, eh?” he didn’t miss Kyra’s growing scowl. “To see how big and strong she’s become. Anyway,” he changed the subject quickly. “I’m about to get breakfast ready. I need to go and collect some eggs first. Though actually I might wait, get Phoibe to do that when she comes back. The damned hens lay all over the place here, it’s like a treasure hunt some mornings.”

“No, allow me, please,” Kyra recognised an opportunity when she saw one. “I’d rather lend a hand than just sit around waiting.”

“Really?” he beamed, delighted. “That’s an admirable attitude. Let’s hope a bit of that rubs off on our brawny, mutual friend, eh?”

Kyra had to bite her tongue quite hard at this, but she managed a smile as Markos handed her a large basket.

“If you go to the end of the path and turn right, they’re generally scratching around in that area,” he gestured vaguely with a wave of his hand. “You’ll have to hunt around a bit. Though there are bound to be some in the henhouse, you can’t miss it. Just ask someone if you get lost.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage, Markos,” Kyra made for the door. “It may take you a little longer to get your eggs this morning, but I’m sure I’ll come back with  _ something _ for you.”

Outside she spotted Kassandra, her back towards her, mauling the gate into position. She waited until she had it settled before going over to greet her. She looked a little sweaty and irritated, but brightened considerably as she turned on hearing Kyra’s voice.

“Good morning, love. No, better not,” she held up a hand as Kyra came over to kiss her. “I’m a bit grubby and sweaty.”

“And when has that ever stopped me?” she growled playfully, stretching up to meet her lips. “Good morning. I take it that you’ve been up for a while?”

“A little,” she nodded. “He’s left this damn gate hanging broken for too long, it’s being a bit of a bastard, but I’m getting there. Hour’s job indeed!” she muttered darkly.

“And your young apprentice?” Kyra ventured.

“Well, obviously he’s got her running off on some damn errand he should be doing himself...oh, and I see he’s got you working too,” she suddenly registered the basket at Kyra’s hip.

“I volunteered,” she swung it. “I thought it would give me a chance to look around the place.”

“It’s hardly the Acropolis,” Kassandra laughed. “I take it you’re looking for chickens?”

“Well, I’m looking for eggs actually, but they frequently go together, no?”

“More often than not,” she smiled. “If you go round to the right and keep going you’ll see the henhouse. Watch out for the rooster,” she warned. “He has a wicked temper.”

“It’s not that, over there, is it?” Kyra spotted a stone outbuilding a little way off.

“No, gods! Nothing so grand. Keep to the right, it’s made of wood...and the chickens all round it are usually a bit of a give away,” she smirked.

Kyra gave her a playful slap on the arm and looked again at the stone building. Kassandra spotted her gaze.

“That’s just some store shed. As far as I’m aware he never uses it for anything. Bit of a waste really, it’s a nice strong building. He could be keeping all his old crap in there instead of making people sleep in a dusty store room. Or letting it out to a family of fruit pickers I suppose,” she added dryly.

“Well,” Kyra gave a thoughtful frown. “I’d better go and find some eggs, don’t want you to be going hungry after a morning’s hard labour.” She gave Kassandra a quick parting kiss and set off. 

It was easy enough to follow the trail of chickens to their home and the work of a few minutes to gather sufficient eggs for four people, even if one of them was Kassandra. There were a good many more scattered about and she was considering making a proper job of it and collecting them all, when she became aware of eyes upon her.

Glancing back over her shoulder she found that she was being beadily observed by a big black and gold rooster, presumably the irritable guardian that Kassandra had warned her of. She’d been bent over, reaching forward, her hand a few inches away from a couple of eggs, but seeing him tilting his head warningly she slowly stood upright, holding out her empty hands. 

“All right, big fellow,” she crooned soothingly. “I’ve got plenty, you can keep the rest,” she bent her knees and cautiously picked up the basket, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. “There we go,” she backed away. “This is me, leaving. You win, my friend,” she made her way, walking crab-wise, out of the yard. The rooster didn’t move so much as a feather, but she could feel his eyes on her at every moment until she was well out of the yard and almost out of sight.

Releasing the breath she’d not even been aware of holding, she dared to turn her back on him and headed off in the direction of the outbuilding. She’d been suspicious about a number of things, right from the moment she’d first tasted Markos’ wine the previous evening, and her suspicions had deepened at the sight of a well maintained cart next to what Kassandra seemed to think was an abandoned shed.

Glancing over her shoulder occasionally to check that she was unobserved, she made her way briskly over to it. Kassandra was right about it being sturdy and weatherproof. If it generally laid empty it was indeed a waste of resources, she agreed. It would make an excellent barn for small livestock, if nothing else. But if it was as ignored as she seemed to think, then why was there a perfectly good cart standing close by, with fresh tracks leading up to it?

Kyra bent and examined the ruts. The cart had been carrying something heavy and she had a good idea what it was. Getting up and brushing the dirt from her hands she made for the large double door at the front of the building and was not entirely surprised to discover that it was fastened with a new lock. It was new but cheap, she observed, not surprised by that either, the man was a dyed in the wool cheapskate. It would be the work of a moment to pry it with her dagger, but before committing to that she decided to check around the rest of the building and see if there was any other way in.

Round the back she found what she’d hoped for. A small window with a rickety shutter across it. There was no lock here, she smiled, but it was too high for her to reach unaided. Kassandra’s presence would be helpful she thought, looking around. She’d be too big to wriggle through that little window, but would be able to boost Kyra up to it without any effort. She was reluctant to involve her right now though. She had nothing yet to confirm her suspicions and Markos no doubt had his eye on Kassandra’s progress with the gate.

She’d hoped that there might be a barrel or a crate that she could press into service, but there was nothing around the back here. Then she spotted the shaft of the cart, poking around the corner. Walking over, she gave it an experimental shove. It wasn’t too heavy. This was somewhere else that Kassandra’s presence would help. 

For a moment she considered going to ask for her assistance, but then she remembered Markos’ earlier statement about keeping a dog and barking yourself. She’d give it a go herself first she decided. Eyeing her path she moved a couple of large stones out of the way, shouldered the shaft and began to pull. It was definitely a job of work, but a few minutes later she was positioning the cart beneath the window with a final grunt of exertion.

Satisfied that she had it correctly placed, she wiped her dusty hands on the skirt of her chiton and walked around to the rear, stopping up short with a startled little yelp. Standing there in the back of the cart, glaring beadily at her was the rooster, his head darting from the basket of eggs nestled in the grass to Kyra’s anxious face and back again.

“Did I just pull you round here, you crafty swine? You’re supposed to be guarding the hens aren’t you?” she muttered, scanning her surroundings, whilst keeping what she hoped was a safe distance between them. He was disturbingly close to eye level from his current perch. “Or finding worms for them? Whatever it is that roosters do with their days? When they aren’t forcing their attentions on unfortunate hens.”

She spotted what she’d been hoping to find. A few feet away a thick stick lay next to a tussock of scrubby weeds. Keeping her eye constantly on the angry bird she went to pick it up.

“Look, my handsome friend,” she brandished it warningly. “There’s no need for this to descend into violence. I just want to get into the back of the cart, preferably without us coming to blows about it.”

The rooster looked like he was well prepared to deal with whatever she intended to dish out. He puffed up his chest and cocked a beady eye, scratching at the dusty wood with one wickedly spurred foot. 

Though Kyra’s collection of combat scars was small compared to Kassandra’s, she had no desire to add to it right now, and especially not as a result of such an ignominious battle. She drew herself up to her full height and hefted the stick in her hand with an authoritative air.

“I have absolutely no desire to hit you with this stick. But if you drive me to it…” she wasn’t sure whether this was an empty threat or not, never having had to face down a rooster before. But she did recall one of the rebels returning from a foraging trip with a bleeding gash in his calf as a result of his attempts to steal some eggs. He’d never managed to live it down and she’d no intention of having to field Kassandra’s ribald teasing should she find herself in a similar position.

Edging cautiously around the side of the cart, she took a few deeps breaths, screwed up her courage and rapped soundly on the planking, darting back a few steps immediately after. To her relief the bird didn’t make a leap over the side towards her, but neither did he jump down.

“All right,” she squared her shoulders, glancing around to make sure that her humiliating retreat had been unobserved. “That’s enough, cockerel. I’ve got work to do here, and you’re in the damn way.”

She’d fought burly men twice her size, armed with maces, she’d be damned if twelve pounds of chicken was going to get the best of her. Triple checking the surrounding vicinity to make sure that there were no potential witnesses to this indignity, she gave a yell and launched herself at the side of the cart, clattering the stick against the spokes of the wheel, before quickly raising it in defense.

To her immense relief he leapt down in a flurry of wings, protesting loudly. For a moment she thought he was going to turn on her and she took a couple of cautious steps back, but, despite clearly considering the option, he eventually decided against it. Scratching threateningly at the dirt a few times, he settled his feathers, craned his neck, and stalked off around the corner of the shed, dignity somehow still intact.

Kyra gave it a moment or two, just to reassure herself that he wasn’t bluffing. Then, keeping a firm hold of the stick just in case, she darted over to the back of the cart. Her ascent was a good deal less elegant than she’d planned, as she felt compelled to keep glancing over her shoulder whilst she scrambled up. The last thing she needed at this stage was for him to return, bent on revenge, whilst her back was to him.

As she got to her feet, something small wedged between the planks caught her eye and she bent, pulled the dagger from her boot and carefully pried the object free. It was a small clay tablet and turning it in her hand she was pleased to see a stylized impression of a crow on one side. This was all the confirmation her suspicions needed. With a satisfied smile she tucked it into her pocket and turned her attention to prising open the weather warped shutters and climbing in.

It was a tight fit she realised, half way through, feeling the stone scraping against her hips. It occurred to her that before a few weeks of hard physical work aboard the Adrestia she might have found herself stuck at this point. Pausing for breath she took the opportunity to look around. 

As she was blocking the only light source it was difficult to make out very much. She was glad to see though that there was a carefully arranged stack of casks below her. At least she wasn’t going to have to tumble head first onto the floor, she thought, slithering through the rest of the way and onto the highest of the barrels.

They swayed a little as she clambered down, confirming her half formed expectation that they would be empty. Rubbing the grit from her hands and clothes she pulled out the dagger again and rapped hard with the hilt on the ends of the casks. A good deal more than half of them were empty by the sound of it, though a few of the lower ones still sounded as though they were full. A light source other than the small square of dim sunlight provided by the window would be useful she thought, perhaps the people who had stacked these might have left something.

After a few minutes of fumbling around in the crepuscular corners, she literally stumbled into a small stool and heard a clatter as a number of things fell from it. Among them, she was pleased to find a candle and tinder box. It took a few attempts but eventually she was crouching in front of the barrels examining the ends of the casks. They all had scorch marks covering something, but one had been less accurately concealed. Kyra fished the clay seal from her pocket and held it up for comparison against the partial image on the barrel, even though she knew it was unnecessary. She’d known they would match, from the moment she caught sight of the lines of the bird’s tail and legs scorched into the wood.

Getting to her feet she turned her attention to a set of doors behind her. The building was subdivided into two parts it seemed. To her relief these inner doors were unsecured, and walking through them she found herself in a second, smaller room with a number of clay amphorae stacked against the walls. Once again, she knew what she’d see before even looking.

The jug Markos had poured from the previous evening had been stamped with a fussy looking bunch of grapes, resting on what was supposed to be a vine leaf. The same image was here on all the amphorae. Kyra withdrew the stopper from the closest one and gave a sniff, closing her eyes and concentrating, before tilting it carefully to dip her fingers into the contents. 

Just what she’d tasted last night, she decided, licking a few drops from her fingers before replacing the amphora with its neighbours. The only thing that puzzled her as she made her way back to the window, was how Markos expected to make any money out of this scheme.

There was no guarantee that whatever his plan was, it would actually hold water of course, she told herself, as she climbed on top of the casks and repeated her awkward passage through the window. The descent on this side was much clumsier without the tower of barrels to break her fall and she tumbled inelegantly, headfirst into the bed of the cart.

Before she could regain breath or dignity there was a furious squawk and she found herself suddenly battered by a flurry of frantic wings and claws. Struggling to her feet and trying to put some distance between herself and her attacker she fell over the side of the cart, landing on her back in the dirt, the crazed rooster following instantly.

“Gods damn you to Hades!” she snapped, lashing out at him and feeling a hot, sharp flare of pain above her knee. Where had she left that stick, she wondered? Just as she remembered that she’d dropped it in the cart, she heard a familiar voice.

“Hey! That’s enough!” Phoibe came running up, picking up a couple of stones and banging them together as she approached. “Get off her!” she threw one a warning distance away from him. “You are a bad boy! Off!”

The rooster immediately recognised a worthy opponent and scuttled off some yards away, glaring at her and protesting all the while.

“Go on,  _ now _ !” Phoibe growled, raising the remaining stone. “Don’t make me have to throw this! Kassandra is going to be furious with you when she sees what you’ve done. You bad rooster!”

He didn’t seem particularly chastened by the information, fluffing his feathers and giving a final grumbling “buck” as he sidled away, still shooting the odd glance over his shoulder as he went.

“He is the worst rooster I have ever met,” Phoibe waited until he was out of sight before dropping the stone. “Markos should have warned you. Though he doesn’t usually come this far away from the hens,” she offered Kyra a hand and helped her to her feet.

“Well...this is humiliating,” she brushed the worst of the dust from her clothes. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, Phoibe.”

“You’re lucky that I heard you. Well that I heard  _ him _ ,” Phoibe eyed her assessingly. “We should get that patched up,” she nodded towards Kyra’s leg. “Kassandra will go off on one if she sees you coming back with blood all down you.”

Kyra followed her gaze and saw a thin trickle of blood running down from her knee.

“Damn it,” she frowned. “Wretched bird.”

“I guess the Daughters of Artemis don’t keep chickens then?” Phoibe indicated that she should take a seat on the back of the cart.

“Well, I’m not saying that none of them do,” Kyra watched as she pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and began to fold it into a neat strip. “But none that I’ve come across.”

“It’s a clean hankie, don’t worry,” Phoibe bent to examine the damage. “It’s not too bad. Probably stings though, right?”

“I’ve had worse,” Kyra shrugged. 

“Aye, so has Kassandra,” Phoibe gave a snort as she wrapped the cloth around Kyra’s leg. “This is pretty shallow though, so that’s good. Not like Kassandra’s rooster scar.”

“Rooster scar?” she cocked an eyebrow, watching as Phoibe neatened the bandage.

“Mmm, on her ass. Well I say ass, right at the top of her thigh, just as it becomes her ass. But perhaps you’ve not got that far yet?” she gave Kyra a quick, sharp glance.

“I’m quite familiar with Kassandra’s...I mean, she said that was from rock climbing,” Kyra stopped herself just in time.

“Rock climbing?” Phoibe tied it off tightly and straightened up. “Interesting! She usually tells women it was from a poisonous snake bite when she’s trying to get them into bed.”

The direction the conversation had taken was a good deal more uncomfortable than the laceration, Kyra decided.

“A snake bite?” she cleared her throat. “That doesn’t sound very convincing. Just how is a snake supposed to have bitten her there? And through her clothing as well, I assume?”

“Well, in fairness, most of them don’t need a lot of convincing,” Phoibe laughed, picking up the basket. “But I can see now why she didn’t try the snake bite story on  _ you _ . Rock climbing doesn’t sound very dramatic though. Did she big it up a bit?”

“Not particularly, she moved immediately on, and now I see why,” Kyra hopped down from the cart and gave her leg an experimental flex. “This is a very nice bandage, Phoibe, thank you again.”

“If it keeps bleeding we can get Selene to put a few stitches in it for you,” Phoibe hefted the basket a bit higher and set off towards the house. “She’s even neater than the healer now. Comes from patching Kassandra up so often. Anyway,” she glanced up at Kyra questioningly. “What were you doing round the back of the shed?”

“Ah!...” she hadn’t given any thought to an excuse. “Markos said the hens laid far and wide,” she settled.

“Hmm,” Phoibe didn’t seem immediately convinced. “Not  _ that _ far. You weren’t to know though,” she examined the contents of the basket. “You got plenty anyway. Which is good because I’m starving.”

“Did you eat the cheese?” Kyra ventured. “I don’t see it.”

Phoibe gave a grudging laugh and shook her head.

“I may have eaten a tiny bit, but no, I put it in the kitchen. Kassandra sent me to find you. She’s hungry as well, and I have to say, he might be a real pain at times but Markos is a good cook. Breakfast will be worth it.”

Kassandra was sitting on the gate she’d repaired, feet braced on one of the crossbars, vigorously eating an apple. Seeing them approach she hopped down, crunching at the final bite and tossed the core into the bushes. She’d clearly had a cursory wash. Her hair and the front of her tunic were wet but her face and hands were clean.

“I thought you were waiting for them to hatch or something,” she grinned. “Ey, what’s this?” she nodded at the bandage above Kyra’s knee.

“She slipped rock climbing,” Phoibe said archly.

Kassandra gave her a quizzical look as she bent to examine the dressing.

“What were you...I mean,  _ where _ were you…”

“No. Phoibe’s pulling your leg,” Kyra gave her a smirk. “Another rooster casualty I’m afraid. Don’t look so worried. It’s just a scratch. Not half so impressive as yours.”

“My? Ah...yes…” she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

“No need to be embarrassed,” Kyra shook her head. “Now that I’ve encountered one first hand, a rooster injury is far more impressive than a rock climbing accident.”

“That bloody rooster,” Kassandra muttered darkly as they followed Phoibe towards the kitchen door. “I swear I’ll…”

“Don’t say you’re going to wring his neck,” she called back over her shoulder. “We all know roosters are your nemesis.”

“That one is definitely angling for the pot,” Kassandra scowled. “In fact I think I’ll have a word with Markos about its future while we’re having breakfast.”

“I’m afraid that you’ll have to wait your turn, my love,” Kyra said quietly, voice sombre.

“_I_ want a word with Markos first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking, but this time it was fishbone who was insistent that there be a rooster in this chapter, and I live to serve.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that Markos does not appreciate an authoritative woman...alas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, dear readers we read the room about our friend Markos and went back and re-wrote this chapter. It is the most hands on collaborative piece of writing we've done so far, honestly. We sweated and laboured together most of Saturday to produce this for you. Then fishy went and sweated and laboured on her own to produce two wonderful pictures to put the icing on the cake. Enjoy.

Markos was standing at the table, chopping herbs and whistling merrily to himself as they entered.

“Ah! The eggs! Well done Kyra, thank you. You didn’t have any problems...oh!” he caught sight of the bandage. “You hurt yourself?”

“No, actually your bloody rooster hurt her,” Kassandra snapped. “I’ve told you time and again that you need to get rid of it, or cut its damn spurs off. Its going to really hurt someone one of these days. In fact I’ve a good mind to go and put an end to its shenanigans myself.”

“Oh really?” he laughed, not particularly kindly. “Let’s see you then. Go on, we’ll wait. I bet she’s not told you that she’s scared of chickens, eh Kyra?”

“She is_ not _scared of chickens!” Phoibe leapt to her defense, dropping the basket onto the table with such force that the eggs rattled. “Just roosters. And she’s not scared of them!” she amended quickly. “She just doesn’t get on with them.”

“How surprising,” he smirked. “And her such a model of charm and diplomacy the rest of the time. And be careful with those eggs, young lady. Kyra hasn’t been out there working hard for you to scramble them all before I get a chance to.”

“Well stop picking on Kassandra then,” she grumbled sullenly.

“Kassandra is quite big enough to defend herself. And you need to mind your manners. Stop showing off because we have guests,” he wagged a finger.

“How about you stop putting your guests in danger then,” Kassandra interrupted before Phoibe could respond. “The damn thing could have had Kyra’s eyes out.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he snorted. “She’s far too tall for that, unless she was bent over at the time, I suppose, but clearly she wasn’t.”

“Actually, if I may say something?” Kyra took a step forward, insinuating herself smoothly between Kassandra and Markos. 

She’d walked in intending to calmly dismantle the man with her words, but his curtness with Phoibe and his brazenly insulting Kassandra right in front of her was the final straw. How dare the arrogant little thief speak like that about the woman she loved. 

“I was wondering if we might have a few words, Markos?” her voice sounding tight even to her own ears as she attempted to control her temper until they were alone. She would rather maintain her dignity in front of Phoibe if that was at all possible.

“Absolutely,” he beamed. “May I continue working while we do? You must be hungry by now and I was hoping to discuss arrangements for later anyway,” he gave her a conspiratorial wink, looking a little disappointed when she remained coolly unresponsive.

“Please do,” Kyra nodded, then cast a glance towards Kassandra. “A few words, _ in private _, if that’s all right, love?”

Kassandra gave her a quizzical half frown and glanced over at Markos.

“Please, sweetheart?” Kyra repeated quietly, discreetly brushing her fingers to get her attention again. Kassandra turned back, caught her eyes, recognised her expression and watched as the tip of her tongue darted out between her slightly opened lips like a snake about to take its prey. Kassandra understood. She shot a brief sidelong glance at the oblivious Markos and nodded. 

“It won’t take long. You could go show Phoibe your work on the gate?” Kyra suggested sweetly, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve seen the gate already,” Phoibe mumbled around a mouthful of celery. 

“All right,” Kassandra nodded again. “If you’re sure? We’ll be right outside if you need me. Come on Phoibe, and don’t talk with your mouth full, you know how it annoys Selene.”

“Hmm, for a woman who runs a brothel she’s got some very fussy manners, I must say,” Markos grumbled, not quite under his breath.

Kassandra gave him a sour look as she placed a hand on Phoibe’s shoulder to encourage her towards the door.

“But!” she began wheedling.

“No buts, you heard what Kyra said,” she patted the back of her head. “Come outside and admire my work. Tell me how clever I am.”

Markos chuckled as he watched them leave.

“Ah, she sounds just like me sometimes, no? A chip off the old block. Anyway, I’m very sorry about your leg Kyra, I hope it’s not too bad. I should have got Kassandra to go collect the eggs. She is so leery of that rooster that she’ll walk all the way round the property to avoid him.”

“Think nothing of it Markos,” Kyra replied, eyes narrowing. Her voice was dangerously serene but he didn’t pick up on it. “Besides Kassandra couldn’t have collected the eggs while she was mending your gate. She’s good, but even _ she _ can’t be in two places at once.”

“No, no,” he agreed, smiling. “But she could have collected the eggs and then come back and finished her work.”

“Whilst Phoibe was fetching your cheese and collecting your debts, I suppose?” she eyed him sharply, stepping over to take up position behind him. He was too busy fussing with the hearth to notice her expression or movement. Satisfied at last, he brushed his sooty hands on the skirt of his tunic and turned, jumping with a startled little yelp on finding her standing within arm’s reach, staring at him, gimlet eyed.

“Gods, you’re light on your feet,” he gave a nervous, unconvincing laugh. “Well, if you don’t keep them busy they just horse around getting up to mischief. You have to keep your eye on them every minute, the pair of rascals,” he shrugged. “And it’s like I always say, why keep a dog and..”

“Bark yourself?” she finished for him, folding her arms. Squaring her shoulders, Kyra drew herself up to her full height and eyed him imperiously. Her irritation with him grew with every word he spoke. Was he even aware of his casual derogation of the people around him, or did he just not care? Neither was acceptable, she decided. “You make a habit of comparing people to dogs, Markos.”

“It’s just a figure of speech,” he defended warily, inching backwards. She seemed a lot taller all of a sudden, he thought, and her arms were surprisingly well muscled. How had he not noticed that before? “What’s the matter? Don’t you like dogs?” he smiled hesitantly.

“I’m extremely fond of dogs. In fact I have one myself and I love him dearly. But not nearly as much as I love Kassandra.”

“Well that’s very sweet, and I’m sure our muscular friend would be pleased to hear it,” he eyed her nervously and made his way to the table where he scraped together the chopped herbs and stirred them into a bowl of oil before wiping his hands on a cloth and continuing, his voice theatrically cheerful. 

“It’s a good thing you sent them out though if we’re going to be discussing business. They wouldn’t say anything on purpose of course, I’m not suggesting something like that! But Phoibe can be such a little chatterbox and Kassandra? Well she’ll let her tongue run like a rabbit if there’s a pretty girl she’s trying to…” he stopped himself quickly as he caught Kyra’s dangerously narrowed eyes.

“I mean she _ used _ to be like that, not that she would be now of course. Not with you here keeping an eye on her,” he waved his hands apologetically. “Anyway,” he assumed an airy tone and changed the subject. “You want to talk about my wine, I’m sure!”

“I do want to talk about _ the _ wine, yes Markos,” she gave him a smile as sharp as her gaze. 

“I knew it!” he grinned, immediately relieved. “I knew you’d know a good deal when you saw it, or tasted it, I should say. You recognised it as soon as it touched your lips last night, no?”

“Indeed I did,” Kyra nodded. “Immediately.” 

The man was an idiot. He clearly couldn’t read people even if they supplied him with a key. If he wasn’t so conniving and self-centered she might almost feel sorry for him. She watched as he broke an egg into the bowl, clearly trying to appear casual. Was he seriously imagining that he could not only lure her into a deal, but could come out ahead of her? She smiled despite herself and watched as he instantly misinterpreted it.

“And now you want to cut a deal?” he stage whispered, tapping the side of his nose. “You want to become sole agent for my product on the Silver Islands I imagine? Well, the timing is a little inconvenient of course,” he pouted thoughtfully. “What with all these potential customers coming later. But I can work something out. After all, considering your, ah hem... _ special relationship _ , with Kassandra? Well it’s almost like keeping it in the family, no? I’ll let the others make a few offers, just to make it all seem legitimate, not that there’s anything _ illegitimate _ about any of this, I assure you!” he defended hastily, waving his hands. “Just to keep them happy, you understand? So they don’t think they’ve wasted their time coming here. But, rest assured my dear, it’s as good as done. You will have exclusive rights to import this wine to your lovely islands, as soon as we agree on the price.”

He stopped at last to draw breath and seemed about to say more but Kyra cut him off crisply. “And why on earth would I want to do that, Markos?” she tilted her head and gave him a sharp, questioning look. “Why would I want to pay _ you _ to have this wine shipped halfway across the Aegean when I can get it the next day from Delos?”

“Ey? What?” his face crumpled into a look of confusion as he watched her fish something out of her pocket. Turning it in her hands a few times she looked up at him from beneath lowered brows before tossing the small, ochre coloured object into his hands, smirking as he scrabbled to catch it.

He looked down, puzzled for just a moment, before turning it between his fingers. Kyra watched with satisfaction as his face grew pale.

“What _ is _ this? I’ve never seen anything like this before in my life!” he struggled for a look of innocent confusion, falling way short of the mark.

Kyra could feel her shoulders tensing with irritation, her blood beginning to simmer in her chest, drumming in her ears with increasing rapidity. Did this half witted, backwater conman truly hope that Kyra would buy his feigned innocence, while he stood there with the evidence in his hand? Did he really think she was that stupid? Her palms were actually itching with the urge to slap that look of wide-eyed idiocy from his smug face, but she resisted, taking a long slow breath in through her nose. Why not put the fear of Cerberus into him first? 

“You haven’t?” she arched an eyebrow. “I have to say that I’m a little surprised to hear you say that under the circumstances. But allow me to enlighten you. That’s a maker’s seal. See the image of the crow on one side? It’s elegant no?”

She reached out and took the tablet from his trembling fingers before he could drop it.

“It’s the mark of a vineyard owner who goes by the name Korax, hence the crow,” she weighed the seal in her palm and slowly traced the outline with her thumb, before slipping it back into her pocket.

“She puts this symbol on everything she produces. Not her personally of course,” she gave him a sardonic half grin, revealing a brief flash of one sharp, white canine. “One of her workers brands it into the end of all her casks. It’s on all her barrels and amphorae and so on. She’s very, very… _ very _,” she glanced up at him meaningfully, “protective of her product and its reputation. And no wonder. She produces excellent wine and-”

“Well, this is all fascinating,” he interrupted her and wiped his hands surreptitiously on the skirt of his tunic, as he tried to drag his trembling lips into a smile. “But I’m not sure what any of this has to do with _ me _. Unless you’re suggesting that I should do a similar thing of course? Actually I have begun to do that. You may have noticed last night that the jug…”

“Quiet!” Kyra snapped curtly, fuming inside. Her bark had a visible effect on him and he swallowed audibly.

****   


“There are two things I can’t stand Markos, lying… _ and _,” she leaned in a little closer, eyes narrowed, “people interrupting me when I’m speaking. I happen to know Korax very well. Her vineyard is on Delos and I’ve drunk her wine often. In fact I’ve sat right across the table from her sharing a jug on a number of occasions. Now I don’t know how much you know about the recent history of the Silver Islands?” she pointedly waited for an answer, watching as he licked his lips like an anxious dog.

“Not a great deal, I must confess,” he mumbled when he realised that awkward silence wasn’t going to suffice. “We’re a bit of a backwater here on Kephallonia as you can see. Sometimes we don’t even-” he was worrying at the edge of his tunic with quivering fingers.

“Then permit me to educate you about that also,” Kyra interrupted abruptly, unwilling to let him regain even a modicum of footing. She began to pace slowly.

“For some considerable while the Islands were under the thumb of a tyrannical Archon. A cruel and merciless man who put down the slightest sign of insurrection as soon as it developed. Naturally people rebelled. It began with protests. People were killed, made an example of. One of those people was Korax’s husband. He was beaten to death in the public square in front of everyone, including his wife.”

“This is a terrible tale and I’m very sorry for the poor woman’s misfortune, I assure you,” he knotted his shaky fingers together. A single bead of sweat formed and rolled down his temple. “But I still don’t see what it has to do with my wine?” his voice was reedy and weak now.

Kyra stopped pacing, spun fiercely on her heel and took a rapid step towards Markos, observing with satisfaction how he instinctively stumbled back as she raised her voice, “Did I, or did I _ not _tell you how much I dislike people interrupting me? I’m getting to that.”

Pleased to see Markos sidle backwards, remaining mute, Kyra braced her back against a cupboard, arms folded over her chest, chin high, expression authoritative and carried on. 

“As a result of this, Korax became deeply involved with the rebels on the islands, keeping her head low but filtering money and information their way whenever possible, smuggling people and supplies on her ships. She is a very principled woman but it has to be said that after that unfortunate business with her husband, she developed a certain .._.ruthless_ streak. She absolutely will not tolerate betrayal. One time...you’ll enjoy this story Markos... an enterprising fellow hired a crew of mercenaries to steal a cargo of wine, with the intention of selling it on under his own name. They never found out what happened to any of them. Six mercenaries...all disappeared...not a trace. The instigator reappeared a little while later, though. At least his head did. Most of it anyway. Right in the middle of a symposium his brother was hosting. It was gift wrapped, but a bit the worse for wear, it has to be said. Nevertheless it certainly provided a conversation piece. No one has ever tried to steal from her again however...till now.”

“!...me...wha..?” he placed a prim hand to his chest. He was sweating a good deal more than could be accounted for by his proximity to the stove, Kyra noticed, with some satisfaction. 

“Are you accusing me of stealing this wine, young lady?!” he looked green around the gills, but was doing his best to sound affronted. “How dare you come into my home, avail yourself of my hospitality and then accuse me of being a thief.” 

He braced his hands on his hips, though whether it was in a misguided attempt to add some authority to his posture, or to disguise how much his hands were shaking, was unclear.

Kyra could scarcely believe that he was continuing to maintain this charade of innocence. She was almost prepared to give him just a sliver of credit for his sheer audacity. Though was it audacity, or stupidity? Did he actually have the nerve to think that he was going to be able to bluff his way out of this? Him, a miserable swindler, besting a woman who negotiated with the sharpest minds of the Aegean? Her patience for him was hanging by a very thin strand.

“Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me that _ you _ produced the wine that we drank last night? From this meagre soil? I recognised that wine alright, Markos. I should do, I drink it often enough. And if I didn’t trust my own tongue, then the shed full of her casks is pretty incontrovertible evidence don’t you think?”

“You _ weren’t _ collecting eggs all that time!” he gasped. “I thought you were a long while, but I assumed that Kassandra had sidled off and grabbed you, the lecherous dog that she is. But you were snooping around my store shed like a common sneak!” 

He had the effrontery to actually sound hurt, Kyra realised, astonished.

“You know, last night I was wondering what an intelligent, elegant young woman like yourself was doing with a big, rough article like Kassandra? I thought you were too good for her. But you’re no better than a miserable spy. Creeping into a man’s home under the cloak of hospitality and then abusing his trust.”

“Hospitality?!” she gave a bark of humourless laughter. “Don’t be any more ridiculous than is absolutely unavoidable, Markos.” 

Kyra stood erect, using her couple of inches advantage over Markos to its full effect, feet braced, shoulders squared, she raised a hand and pointed an accusatory finger at him, the blood singing in her veins. 

“You haven’t fed us, you gave us stolen wine and then made us sleep in a glorified cupboard. You have Kassandra of Sparta, Hero of the Aegean, fixing your gate because you’re too mean to pay a craftsman, or too lazy or stupid to do it yourself. You’ve got Phoibe...a child!...running around as your debt collector, because you’re too cowardly to do it yourself.”

“How dare you stand there and insult me, in my own kitchen!” Markos interjected reedily like some outraged maiden aunt. “And when I was about to make you a lovely breakfast too. And don’t you criticize the way I treat those girls. I’ve looked after them as though they were my own daughters, I’ll have you know!”

“Really?” Kyra sneered and stalked up to him with slow, confident steps. She stabbed a finger into his chest so hard that he grimaced in pain and scuttled back a step to put some space between them.

“Gods pity the children that had_ you _ as a father Markos. What kind of a father begrudges their child every mouthful of food? Every new pair of sandals? What kind of a father denies his child milk because he’s decided it’s time she stopped growing? What kind of father sends his young daughter out as his debt collector?”

“You know,” he scowled, rubbing the spot where Kyra had poked him, with an air of self-pity. “I used to wonder what on earth Kassandra’s pillow talk could possibly consist of! How to gut a deer? Telling you how you stack up against her endless list of previous lovers? Has she told you about them? Because your pretty eyes and your winning smile aren’t going to have you warming her bed for any longer than the others! But now I see. She rolls over and tells scurrilous lies about me. Me! The man who saved her from the waves, who brought her into his own home. Who fed her, and clothed her. And believe me, none of that was cheap. She ate like a bear. But I didn’t begrudge her a drachma of it. Then the minute she’s old enough to start earning her keep, she sticks her big clumsy oar in between me and Selene and flounces off to live in a bloody whorehouse. The very thing I saved her from in the first place!”

“Listen to yourself, you cowardly shyster. Gods man, do you _ ever-stop-whining _?” Kyra seethed. “Earn her keep! You know what any decent man would have done if he’d come across an injured, traumatized little girl washed up on the beach? He’d have fallen to his knees and thanked the gods for sending him this blessing. You took one look at her and thought, “how can she be of use to me?” You were not just ungrateful, you were wicked and cruel,” she snarled, watching as he cowered back like a cornered rabbit.

“I doubt you’ve ever in your life looked at another person without wondering how they could be useful to you. I was barely over your threshold before you were trying to involve me in your ludicrous scheme,” she took a step forward and glared at him, quietly satisfied to see him cower away, his hands searching for something to hold on but only finding the hot hearth behind him. Hissing in pain he yanked them away and Kyra couldn’t prevent a warm glow of schadenfreude at the sight of him flapping his hands and blowing on his fingers. 

“You took Kassandra into your home that day, Markos,” she hissed. “And then you provided her with the bare minimum. A roof, a bed, her clothes, her meals. And all the time you were tallying every drachma you spent. Just so you could throw it back in her face at every opportunity. But you gave her none of the things that a child really needs. Any child, but especially a damaged child like Kassandra was. Love, comfort, security, understanding. You don’t invest in a child so that they can pay you back, you loathsome malaka,” she eyed him slowly up and down, her lips curled in disgust. 

“You invest in a child to see them grow, to see them become the best version of themselves that you can help them to be. And then you stand back and watch them fly, and you’re proud of them. You raise a child expecting nothing back, Markos. You go hungry yourself so that they can eat. You wear your clothes to rags so that they might be warm. You hope for nothing in return but their safety and happiness,” she paused and took a breath, stepping back a pace and giving him a pitying look.

Markos gave a peevish snort, sucking at his blistering fingers.

“She was _ lucky _ I found her. Do you want to know what other men would _ really _ have done if they’d found a defenseless little girl on the beach? They’d have fallen to their knees alright, but it wouldn’t have been to pray. You talk of a man who only exists in stories, children’s stories. Your selfless rescuer only exists in your imagination. And what would a fancy lady like you know about such things anyway? You know nothing about hardship and struggle, not knowing where your next meal is coming from.”

“My selfless rescuer is called Praxos and he’s ten times the man you could ever hope to be. If he was here now he’d haul your pathetic carcass up onto the roof and shake you by the ankles till every drachma in your pockets fell out. Compared to him you are as a rat to a lion,” she raged.

“I lost count of the number of times that I went to bed with an empty belly as a child,” she shook her head. “But I_ always _ went to sleep knowing that I was loved, that I was safe, that there was someone there who would care for me to his last breath. Kassandra though? There were two tragedies that befell her that night. The first was being dropped off a cliff by a man who should have protected her with his life. And the second was being washed up at the feet of a man who only saw her as an asset to be exploited. And honestly, I’m not sure which of them was worse. You are a stupid, selfish, parsimonious little man Markos, I would pity you, but you don’t deserve it. You’re going to die alone and unloved, on a mattress stuffed with ill gotten drachmae, having achieved nothing. You wretched apology for a human being.”  
  
  


“What does parsimonious mean?” Phoibe hissed, crouching by the door and shooting a quizzical glance at Kassandra. “Stupid or mean?”

“It means she thinks he’s a skin-flint,” she hissed back. “And come away from there.”

****   


“Well, she’s not wrong,” Phoibe shrugged, “and don’t pretend you can’t hear from where you are. You’ve got ears like a bat.”

“Never mind what my ears are like,” Kassandra grabbed a handful of the back of her tunic and hauled her away. “She asked us not to listen, so we shouldn’t be listening.”

She found herself embarrassed and moved by Kyra’s spirited defense of her, torn between wishing she hadn’t overheard it and touched almost to the point of tears.

“But she’s really dragging him through the bushes, it would be a shame to let it go to waste,” Phoibe protested. “Besides, I’m always running errands for him, I’ve a right to know about his business practices.”

“We all know everything we need to know about Markos’ business practices, Phoibe,” she said emphatically, lifting her up onto the gate and hopping up beside her.

Phoibe pouted for a while before examining the hinges with theatrical concentration.

“You’ve done a very good job,” she announced, patting Kassandra’s hand condescendingly. “You’re very clever ...better now?” she smirked. “You know, I have to say you’re not as much fun when you’re with Kyra.”

“Hey?” Kassandra looked wounded. “We have a lot of fun. When she’s not at work,” she amended. “She has to be serious because of her job.”

“Yes, I imagine _ you _ do,” Phoibe gave her a dry look. “But I meant fun for _ me _. What does she do for a job anyway?” she glanced over to the door, at the sound of Kyra’s raised voice, frowning thoughtfully. “I don’t think she’s a hetaera, she’s too...what?” she turned at the sound of Kassandra’s startled squawk.

“Do _ not _ ask Kyra if she’s a...she’s not a hetaera,” she floundered. 

“I just said that I didn’t think she was, didn’t I?” Phoibe protested. “What’s wrong with being a hetaera anyway?”

“Nothing! There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just not the sort of thing you come right out and ask someone that you don’t know well.”

“If I knew her well then I probably wouldn’t need to ask would I?” she rolled her eyes. “I tell you what though, she doesn’t take any shit does she?”

“Ey, language!” Kassandra warned halfheartedly, ruefully reflecting on a number of occasions when Kyra’s limited tolerance for shit had been directed at her. 

She could still hear voices from inside the kitchen, mainly Kyra’s it had to be said, but they were too far away to catch any words. Kyra was sounding commanding, Markos wheedling reedily now and again. He wouldn’t gain much ground like that, she thought, smirking.

“Phh,” Phoibe gave a dismissive snort. “Shit isn’t even language. Selene allows it.”

“At the supper table?” Kassandra gave her a dubious look.

“Well, all right, maybe not while we’re eating,” she conceded. “She says it’s...aw, what’s that phrase she uses?” she tapped her foot against the gate post, thinking hard. “Depends something...Context dependent!” she remembered triumphantly. “Like fuck.”

Kassandra’s foot slipped off the cross brace and she nearly lost her balance.

“I _ beg _ your pardon?!” she reproved, righting herself quickly and frowning.

“I said it’s context dependent, like fuck,” Phoibe repeated placidly. “Selene says it’s all right to say fuck if you’re talking about actual fucking but not to say fuck if you’re just using it as a swear word, unless you’ve hit your thumb with a hammer or something. Because Iva doesn’t swear, but even she said fuck when she hit her head on the pump handle that time, though that was Clio’s fault really.”

“Thank you!” Kassandra said primly. “I know what context dependent means.”

“Oh...all right. I wasn’t sure,” Phoibe reached down and plucked a stalk of grass from the foot of the gate post and chewed thoughtfully. “Anyway, fuck’s like shit, according to Selene, but shit’s not as bad as…”

“That will _ do _ , thank you!” Kassandra frowned. “And do _ not _ try and tell me that’s what Selene said!”

“It’s almost exactly what she said,” Phoibe spoke around the grass. “Ask her yourself if you don’t believe me. Actually, _ please _ ask her because I’d love to see your face when you hear Selene say f…”

“Do _ not _ !” Kassandra raised a finger. “And whatever you do, do _ not _ say fu... _ that _ around Kyra.”

“I won’t need to unless the context demands it,” Phoibe smirked. “And that’s up to you two really, when it comes right down to it.”

Kassandra gave her a puzzled look and then blushed hotly as the coin dropped.

“I mean, I assume you two are…”

“I am warning you, Phoibe, do not test me. I’m starving for one thing and I’m not talking with you about that for another.”

“I swear you’re so weird about sex for someone who grew up surrounded by it,” Phoibe spat out a wet wad of grass.

“I am not weird about it,” Kassandra grumbled sulkily. “It’s just inappropriate to discuss it with you is all.”

“You act like I didn’t catch you and Sophitia…” Phoibe began but stopped immediately at the sight of Kassandra’s warning finger.

“_ That _ was an accident,” she said firmly. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring it up again.”

“Around Kyra, you mean?” Phoibe shot a glance towards the kitchen door. There was definite movement inside.

“Especially around Kyra,” Kassandra sighed.

“All right,” Phoibe shifted a little, trying to find a more comfortable position. “I guess we’re not going to get any breakfast out of Markos after this performance?” she charitably changed the subject, just as Kyra strode out, two packs over her shoulder, and Phoibe’s bow under her arm.

She’d got no more than a dozen steps when Markos appeared at the door behind her, Phoibe’s bedroll in his hand.

“You come into my house,” he bleated miserably, sounding tearful.. “Ruin my business, call me a persimmon, I don’t want to see any of you again!” he waved a finger in their general direction. “Not until you’re ready to apologise! And don’t forget _ this _!” he threw the bedroll after her but it slipped from his blistered fingers at precisely the worst moment, sending it spiraling into the small of Kyra’s back.

“Ah! That was an accident! An accident, it slipped!” he squealed in a panic, his hands to his mouth.

“Hey!” Kassandra was down off the fence in an instant and halfway to the door, shoulders squared, face like thunder.

“Don’t! Don’t you dare!” he whinnied, panicking and backpedaling, tripping over his feet in his retreat. “I’m unarmed. And injured,” he held out his hands.

“Kassandra,” Kyra caught her arm and smiled softly. “It’s just a bedroll, sweetheart, it’s fine. Markos is understandably distressed because he’s going to have to cancel this evening’s wine tasting.”

Kassandra glowered towards the house as Markos peeped anxiously around the door before slamming it. The rattle of the bolt being shot home rang out. Picking up the bedroll, Kassandra took the two packs from Kyra and slung them over her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly, scanning her face.

“Absolutely,” she smiled, taking her hand. “Starving though,” she frowned. “Well, Phoibe,” she called her over. “I’m afraid I’ve scuppered breakfast, but I’ll get us all something when we get into Sami, I promise.”

“Thank the gods,” Phoibe sighed, taking her bedroll from Kassandra and tucking it under her arm, before slinging her bow across her back. “My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. Can we have that pastry thing that Amantha makes?” she looked hopefully in Kassandra’s direction. “With the cheese and the spinach. It’s nearly mid day look,” she cast an eye skyward. “And I’m so hungry. I’ve only had a bit of celery between me and starvation.”

“You may have whatever you like,” Kyra answered for her. “Leave room for dessert.”

Phoibe gave a delighted pump of her fist and set off ahead, humming happily as she skipped off down the road.

“So. How much of that did you hear?” Kyra ventured after a few minutes.

“What?” Kassandra gave her an unconvincingly perplexed look, but seeing her disbelief she smiled sheepishly. “A bit.” She gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “A blessing from the gods?” she asked softly. “You reckon?”

“I do,” Kyra nodded. “You were the best thing that ever happened to him and he couldn’t even see it. The stupid, selfish little man. It would be nice if he could realise that, even at this late date. For his own sorry self as much as anything else. But, no, he’s clearly going to try and exploit Phoibe in just the same way. It seems the only language he truly understands is money and the only place you can strike him and really hurt him is his purse,” she paused dramatically.

“So I did,” she fished in the pocket of her chiton and withdrew a heavy looking coin purse, holding it out towards Kassandra.

“What’s that?” she eyed it curiously.

“A coin pouch, obviously,” Kyra smiled, letting go of her hand and placing the purse in it instead. “It’s dreadfully late I know, and I didn’t ask for interest. In fact, truth be told, I don’t even know if it’s the right amount, you didn’t tell me how much he owed you. But I estimated what you would pay for an estate like this, in a place like Kephallonia and made an educated guess.” 

She stopped and looked back. Kassandra had halted in her tracks and was standing looking at the bag in her hand, dumbfounded.

“Are you all right, love?” Kyra made her way back and stroked her forearm softly. “Did I do something wrong?” she frowned, suddenly uncertain.

“You got my money off him?” she breathed quietly. “How...how did you ever…” she tailed off.

“You didn’t ask me to, I know,” Kyra explained. “And I hope you don’t think I overstepped the mark? But I didn’t think you’d really want me to throw him off the roof or anything, tempting though the idea was. Handing this over seemed to really hurt him though. There were actual tears in his eyes. I hope it’s all there. Does it feel about right?”

“But how?” Kassandra looked up at her, still seeming astonished.

“Oh...that wasn’t too hard,” Kyra grinned. “I wasn’t lying about Korax, that _ was _ her wine and she definitely _ would _ kill him if she found out what he was going to do. And then she’d arrange some dramatic display with his remains. Turns out some pirate looted it from a merchant vessel, realized what he had and panicked. He dropped it off here as far away from Delos as he could get, and sold it to Markos for a song. He could tell he had good wine, but he’d no idea whose or what he was risking. She really did have a man’s head delivered to his brother’s house in the middle of dinner. Without its lips and nose and with her mark carved into its forehead. I made Markos an offer. He could return Korax’s goods to me along with the debt he owed to you, or I could go and have a chat with Korax on our return to Mykonos. Let her know where her missing cargo was, and the details of the man trying to pass it off as his own.”

“And he handed this over?” Kassandra opened the bag and looked inside. “I’ve never seen him part with anything like this before.”

“Well, given the choice between losing a pouch full of drachmae or losing a few of his facial features, and then his life,” Kyra smirked, “he came to an impressively swift decision.”

Kassandra shook her head laughing, and tucked the weighty coin purse in her pocket, before reaching out and cradling Kyra’s cheek softly, feeling her lean into her touch, closing her eyes briefly.

“You are a remarkable woman, Kyra,” she bent and rested their foreheads together. “I’m not entirely sure what I’ve done to deserve you, but just so you know, despite what Markos said, I am determined to warm your bed, and _ your _ bed alone, for as long as you’ll allow me.”

“Are you sure?” Kyra gave her an arch look. “Because that’s going to be a very long time indeed.”

“That’s what I was hoping you were going to say,” Kassandra dropped their packs by her feet and took Kyra in her arms, lifting her off her feet a little to kiss her warmly.

“Ey! Oy! Come on, pack that in for the love of Hera, it’s going to be supper time before I get anything to eat at this rate,” Phoibe’s whining complaint interrupted them.

“You know,” Kyra whispered in Kassandra’s ear. “You’re right, she is making a bit of a habit of this.”

“I think we should take her swimming this afternoon,” Kassandra grinned. “Get her good and tired out before bedtime, and also because she said I’m no fun when I’m around you.”

“Well that’s a filthy lie,” Kyra gave a wicked laugh, “because you are enormous fun when you’re around me,” she gave Kassandra’s neck a playful nip.

“I know, right?” she chuckled. “And you know something else?” she felt the solid weight of the coin against her hip. “I think that it’s about time Markos made a charitable contribution to some orphans,” she gave a slow, satisfied smile.

“That’s an admirable idea,” Kyra grinned, waiting for her to pick up their bundles, before taking her hand again. “It will go some small way towards compensating for his lacklustre treatment of the orphans in his own life.”

“But it will be acceptable to deduct a small amount to buy dinner for everyone, no?” Kassandra gave her a cautious look. 

“Definitely,” Kyra nodded. “Because, I’m not sure I’ve got enough coin on me to satisfy your appetite _ and _ Phoibe’s.”

“What’s Markos going to do about the wine tasting then?”

“That’s not really our problem is it?” Kyra arched an eyebrow and smirked. “But I imagine that he’s going to have to get word to people pretty quickly that it’s been cancelled, unless he wants to face a cartload of disgruntled buyers turning up on his doorstep and demanding he pay their expenses once they realise that he’s got no wine to sell. Unless he tries to sell them his own?” she added thoughtfully.

“Oh gods,” Kassandra breathed, quietly delighted. “We should sneak back here after dark and see what happens.”

“I’m on holiday,” Kyra said placidly. “I don’t want to witness bloodshed if avoidable. Plus,” she added. “You don’t want to get roped into having to help funnel all that wine that he’s decanted into his amphorae, back into Korax’s barrels. He really should have left it in them. He’s made a hell of a job for himself. Or for someone at any rate.”

Kassandra wiped her eyes with the back of her hand still chuckling quietly to herself.

“And before you ask,” Kyra continued. “I pointed out to him that I would be checking the contents of every cask before we load it, just in case he got any ideas about double crossing me and filling them with his own wretched swill.”

“Really? That’s going to be a lot of casks to sample from the sound of it?”

“I’ll be sure to eat a hearty breakfast,” Kyra gave her hand a squeeze as they picked up pace to reach Phoibe. “Tell me there’s somewhere I can get grilled meats, Phoibe,” she gave her a smile as they fell into step beside her. “For some reason I’m really in the mood for chicken.”

  
  



	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the evidence points to Barnabas being a mediocre whittler.

Their trip to the beach ended up including everyone. As Kassandra carefully rolled her underwear inside her tunic in an optimistic attempt to keep the sand out of it, she pointed out to Kyra that if she insisted on clinging to her own underwear as she was, she would stand out all the more for it.

“At least take your strophion off,” she suggested, wiggling her toes in the warm sand, “You’ll never beat me to that rock otherwise.” She nodded to a target some distance from the shore.

“I’d never beat you to it anyway, regardless of what I was wearing,” Kyra shook her head.

“Kassandra,” Selene said, quietly but firmly, without looking up from laying out the blanket she’d brought with her. “When a lady tells us that she doesn’t wish to remove her clothing…”

“Right. Sorry.” She didn’t need to wait for her to complete the sentence. “I just wanted to say that you don’t need to feel shy,” she darted a quick glance over towards the sea as Phoibe called out for her. “Phoibe’s with us,” she waved a hand. “Everyone will be on their best behaviour.”

“By everyone, she means herself and Clio,” Selene was arranging the party’s discarded clothing into a makeshift pillow.

“Well, yes, I suppose so, mainly,” Kassandra conceded.

“I’ve no doubt that you’re right,” Kyra watched as Clio attempted to haul Phoibe onto her shoulders, failing at the last moment and sending them both toppling backwards with a dramatic splash.

“Kassandra,” Selene was reclining now, watching the horseplay with an indulgent smile. “Stop wheedling and go find me a nice shell, please.”

Kyra was amused by Kassandra’s immediate twitchy eagerness.

“Go,” she patted her arm. “I’ll catch you up.”

“You’re sure?” Kassandra was already a half dozen steps away, looking hesitantly back over her shoulder for confirmation.

“Sometimes it's best to just give her something to do,” Selene explained fondly as they watched her race off, sand flying in her wake. “A bit like trying to distract a puppy from chewing your sandal. Not that I’m trying to tell you how to handle her. I’m sure you’ve developed your own methods,” she gave her a subtle smile.

Kyra could feel a warm blush spreading across her cheeks, but forced herself to return the look.

“I’m happy to accept any suggestions. You have considerably more experience with her than I do, after all.”

“Feed her and keep her busy,” Selene laughed softly. “She’s really relatively low maintenance, so long as her various appetites are met. You’ve no doubt discovered for yourself that she’d rather dig a hole and fill it in again than sit idle.”

She watched as Kyra observed the tomfoolery in the waves, one arm crooked defensively across her waist, her hand cupping the opposite elbow.

“It must be difficult to turn off from your job, I imagine?” she said quietly. “Kassandra has told me of your position in one of her more coherent letters. It must be tiring to bear such responsibilities all the time?” she winced as Kassandra threw Phoibe into the swells with a good deal more vigor than she’d intended and raced over to make sure that she was alright.

Kyra heard Selene’s sigh of relief as Phoibe broke surface, laughing and spluttering and demanding that Kassandra do it again. There was a lengthy silence as they watched the good natured horseplay, but eventually Selene gave a quiet sigh and sat further upright, hugging her knees.

“You’ll be taking Phoibe back with you, I imagine?” she kept her eyes on the sea. “I know that Kassandra has been promising her for a long time, and I assume that you accompanying her is a signal that the time is now?”

Kyra felt her throat tighten suddenly and unexpectedly, and couldn’t bring herself to look at Selene. There were so many aspects of this arrangement that she hadn’t given due consideration, she thought guiltily. She’d made the mistake of picturing Phoibe as a more or less blank tablet. A stand in for what she and Kassandra would never be able to create between them, no matter how strong and deep their love.

She had, by accident or unconscious design, not considered that Phoibe would already be a complex individual in her own right, with her own hopes and dreams and preferences. Just as badly, she hadn’t given thought to what a solid little family she already had around her. And now she and Kassandra were going to suggest that she give it all up to go and live among strangers on a strange isle.

“We were going to ask her if she wanted to return with us to Mykonos, yes,” her voice sounded hoarse and uneven to her.

“I can more or less guarantee what her response will be.” In contrast, Selene’s voice remained admirably placid.

“You’ll miss her so much,” Kyra felt an errant tear escape her lashes and dashed it away with the back of her fingers. “I’m sorry Selene. We talked about so many of the details of this trip. But I didn’t even consider this. That she already has a family.”

“You can’t chain children to you,” Selene’s eyes were fixed on the playful group. “Nor should you try to. I learned that with Kassandra. We miss her, but we’ve learned to live with it. We’ll miss... _ I’ll _ miss Phoibe...but again, we’ll learn to deal with it. Her family will never be complete so long as it doesn’t include Kassandra. We’ve been blessed to have her for as long as we have.”

There was another pause. Kyra struggled for the words to say, but wasn’t sure she would trust herself to speak even had she found them.

“And what could we possibly offer her on Kephallonia?” Selene continued at last. “Marriage to one of the dull boys here? Life as a goat farmer’s wife? Kassandra’s old job? She deserves so much more than that. More than we can give her on the island ...you'll see to it that she’s educated?” she glanced up sharply.

“Of course! Absolutely!” Kyra grasped at the straw gratefully. “We’ve established a schoolroom on Mykonos. I’m hoping to make similar provisions on Delos in time, though the islanders there are rather more...rigidly traditional. It’s early days yet, but we’re making progress.”

“For girls also?” Selene patted the sand next to her.

“Of course!” Kyra said firmly, sitting beside her. “Everyone or no-one. The girls were a good deal behind the boys when we started but they catch up so quickly, like thirsty young plants. I suspect Phoibe is already a good deal more advanced though. And as a member of the Archon’s household it would be necessary for her to receive private tutelage for a number of reasons. I already have a suitable man in mind for the post.”

“I hope he’s possessed of a robust sense of humour and isn’t easily distracted,” Selene chuckled.

“He’s a little idiosyncratic,” Kyra admitted. “But a passionate educator. I think they’ll get on very well.”

“Promise me one thing please, Kyra?” Selene looked seriously at her.

“If it’s a promise I can keep then yes, of course I will,” she nodded solemnly.

“Promise me that you’ll see that Phoibe keeps in touch?” Selene reached for her hand. “And that she’ll come and visit occasionally.”

“I swear, Selene,” Kyra caught her hand and squeezed it firmly. “You have my word. I’ll also try and work on Kassandra’s letter writing skills,” she smiled.

“You won’t be the first. But you’re clearly a very determined woman. If you can’t succeed then it probably  _ is _ a lost cause.”

They both looked up at the sound of Kassandra thundering up the beach towards them, grinning broadly, her sodden braid swinging at her shoulder. She threw herself down heavily into the sand beside Kyra and held out a hand to Selene.

“Your shell, my Thethys,” she beamed. “There’s nothing inside it, I checked really carefully. You two looked deep in conversation?” she stroked Kyra’s foot absently, her fingers cool and damp.

Kyra had opened her mouth to speak, but Selene cut her off before she could even begin.

“Kyra will fill you in later,” she smiled. “We didn’t come out here to sit talking the whole time.”

“Ohh, that sounds serious?” she gave Kyra a wary look. “Should I be worried?”

“Not in the least sweetheart,” Selene shook her head. “Everything is perfectly fine.”

“Good. By the way, love,” she dipped her head and pressed a quick kiss to Kyra’s knee. She’d removed the bandage earlier and the cut was already crusting over. “I told Phoibe that we’d go hunting tomorrow. Have the whole day out together. I hope that’s all right? You can give her the new bow. She can try it out.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Kyra smiled fondly at her. A few damp tendrils of hair clung to her brow and neck and her face was flushed with exertion and eagerness. She didn’t think she’d ever looked lovelier.

“Great!” she leapt to her feet and held out a hand. The front of her body was dressed in a thin coating of pale sand and she looked like a magnificent statue as she towered over her, reaching out. “Come on now, time to swim. We’ve been here for ages and you’re not even wet yet.” 

Kyra gave her a quick wary look, but for once she seemed oblivious to her own innuendo, grinning happily and wiggling her fingers encouragingly.

“Or do I have to carry you?” she tilted her head playfully.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Kyra got to her feet. “I can make it down there on my own hind le…” she finished with a startled squeak as Kassandra grabbed her around the waist and effortlessly slung her over her shoulder.

“I’m carrying you,” she slapped her lightly on the ass as she set off at a run towards the breaking waves. “And then I’m coming back for you, Selene,” she called over her shoulder.

Kassandra’s plan had been to exhaust Phoibe by bed time and it seemed to have worked. As evening approached and they sat chatting and drinking she gave a huge yawn and lowered the scroll she was studying.

“Gods Phoibe,” Clio grimaced, “put your hand over your mouth, it’s terrifying.” She yawned herself. “Damn, now see what you’ve done, and I’m working in a bit.”

“You do all your work in bed though, so you’ll be okay,” Phoibe gave a cheeky grin.

“Not all of it, young lady. And it’s  _ what _ I do, not  _ where _ I’m doing it that’s...” she turned as Iva unsuccessfully stifled a yawn. “See! Now everyone’s going to be doing it.”

“Why does that happen?” Phoibe rubbed her sleepy eyes. “When one person yawns, why does everyone else join in?” she looked expectantly at Kassandra, who pursed her lips and gave a shrug.

Phoibe turned and gave Selene a hopeful look but she smiled and shook her head.

“I have no idea little one, but I have wondered the same thing myself. You need a better tutor than me to teach you these things.”

“And then if you find out, let the rest of us know, “ Iva smiled as Phoibe peered at the scroll again.

“All right, no one knows that,” she frowned. “But why do poet’s always compare women to flowers?”

“Because they’re pretty?” Iva slipped her arm around Clio’s shoulders and kissed her cheek lightly.

“Because they smell good,” Kassandra pulled a drowsy Kyra close and buried her nose in her hair.

“Because they lack imagination?” Clio suggested. “There are lots of pretty things besides flowers after all.”

“That’s right,” Phoibe yawned again. “Like...sunsets? Or waterfalls. Or Tzatziki.”

“Come again?” Kassandra frowned as they all stared at her, bemused. “That garlicky stuff? I doubt there’s a woman in the world who’d be flattered by that. No matter how much you like it.”

“Not the dip, the cat,” Phoibe rolled her eyes. “Oh you don’t know her. She’s a stray lives down the docks, I feed her sometimes.”

“Like every day,” Clio laughed.

“All right,” Phoibe conceded. “I go feed her every morning, and she’s really pretty. Sometimes when she’s just stretched out in the sun, and she has her eyes half closed, she’s the most beautiful thing. Prettier than flowers.”

“Well a number of unpublished poets of my acquaintance have incorporated cats in their work after a fashion, now I come to think about it,” Clio said mischievously.

“So why is she called Tzatziki?” Kassandra interrupted even before Selene could. “Do I dare ask?”

“Because she’s this creamy white colour,” Phoibe rolled up the scroll, the light was too dim to study any longer and her eyelids were drooping. “Not because she smells of garlic!”

“I’m surprised it doesn’t smell of fish,” Clio shook her head. “Every time I see that cat it’s eating.”

“She has a hearty appetite,” Phoibe got to her feet and walked over to Selene to return the scroll.

“Does she now?” Kassandra said thoughtfully. “And she doesn’t have a home? You’re sure?”

“No, I’m pretty sure not. I think she sleeps round the back of the boat sheds. Why?” Phoibe found herself being pulled down onto Selene’s lap and wrapped in a hug.

“No reason. I was just wondering,” she shrugged, stroking Kyra’s hair slowly and pressing the occasional kiss to her temple as they sat, listening to the evening chatter begin in the street outside.

“You have had a very busy day, Phoibe,” Selene stroked her hair back from her face, she’d caught the sun across her nose and there was still a little sand dusting her disarrayed bun. “It’s time for bed,” she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead as she glanced over at Kyra. She was leaning in against Kassandra, her head resting against her shoulder, eyes drifting closed.

“I think you should sleep with me tonight, little one,” Selene continued.

“Oh but,” Phoibe half sat up from her embrace, ready to whine.

“No buts,” Selene placed a finger to her lips. “Let Kassandra and Kyra have the bed to themselves tonight, you have a day’s hunting ahead of you tomorrow. I doubt anyone should be preparing for that by sleeping on the floor. Besides, I'd _ like _ to share with you tonight, it's been so long since you’ve come to sleep with me. Not like when you were very young.”

“But Selene,” Phoibe persisted. “Please? Kassandra’s never here, and you’re here all the time.”

“I won’t always be here,” Selene said quietly. “We none of us know what tomorrow holds.”

Gods, Selene!” Clio frowned. “That’s a hell of a turn to give the conversation.”

“It’s true though,” Iva sat up and stretched. “An eagle could drop a rock on my head on the way to market in the morning and that would be it.”

“Gods teeth,” Clio shook her head. “What’s got into the two of you? The thing is Phoibe,” she turned and wagged a playful finger at her. “When you’re a good deal older you’ll realise that when a very attractive older woman invites you to share her bed for the night, the appropriate answer is, why thank you, I can think of nothing that would give me greater pleasure.”

Before anyone could chastise Clio, Phoibe rolled her eyes and kissed Selene’s cheek.

“Why, thank you, I can think of nothing that would give me greater pleasure,” she repeated dryly, getting up and going to give Kassandra a hug before making her way upstairs.

“You’re a natural,” Clio called after her. “Now you two go to bed as well, before the customers turn up and you put them all off their stride, I can’t be expected to compete with a beautiful newcomer and a handsome misthios, give a working girl a chance. And you must be exhausted Kyra, extracting money from Markos.”

“Speaking of which,” Kassandra fished in her pocket as Kyra stretched and sat up. “I have something for you Selene,” she had been upstairs and retrieved the coin pouch on their return and she produced it now, tossing it over to her.

“I don’t want Markos’ money, thank you Kassandra,” she seemed on the verge of throwing it straight back.

“It’s not Markos’, it’s Kassandra’s,” Clio pointed out reasonably.

“Well I still don’t want it, thank you. I sincerely hope that you’re not suggesting that you owe me anything?” there was the shadow of a frown ghosting across her features.

“No, no!” Kassandra held up her hands. “Nothing like that, I swear. It’s just that I don’t really feel right taking it off the island. I thought you might keep hold of it. I know there are folks who struggle from time to time, and you’re good at helping people out without it seeming like charity.”

Selene gave the purse a look and weighed it in her hand for a moment before nodding at her.

“Very well, we’ll keep it, strictly under those circumstances. It seems appropriate that Markos should inadvertently end up helping out the people he’s been fleecing all these years.”

“Poetic in a way,” Iva smiled, patting Clio’s knee.

“We still have money that you’ve left for Phoibe as well,” Selene looked over. “Would you like us to use that for the same purpose?”

“I think so,” Kassandra considered for a moment. “If you don’t want or need anything yourselves. I want you to be looked after first.”

“Well Phoibe’s about ready for some new sandals,” Clio pointed out. “I know Pero doesn’t normally charge her, for old time’s sake,” she gave Kassandra a cheeky wink. “But she’s been keeping her shod for ages now. You can’t have been  _ that _ good, surely?”

“Unfortunately we’ve left it a bit late for that,” Selene sighed. “But undoubtedly they have leather workers on Mykonos, no?”

“Of course,” Kyra nodded. “Very good ones. We’ll see that Phoibe gets new…”

“Why are we suddenly concerned about shoes on Mykonos?” Clio interrupted, frowning.

Selene gave her a sympathetic smile.

“We knew the day was coming Clio, we’ve spoken about it often enough. It’s time for Phoibe to be with Kassandra now. We’ve had our turn after all.”

“Wait. What?” she turned and looked sharply at Kassandra. “ _ That’s _ what this is all about? The sudden visit, bringing Kyra. You’re taking her back with you?”

“I said that I would as soon as I was settled and could keep her safe,” Kassandra reminded her gently. “And now I am and I can.”

“And you couldn’t have said that in your fucking letter?” she snapped. “You couldn’t have given us a bit of time to get used to the idea?  _ This _ is how I have to find out?”

“I’m sorry,” Kassandra began to realise how very lacking her letter had been in every regard. “I didn’t think about that, I mean I’ve been saying all along that…”

“You say a lot of things Kass,” she snapped. “Until it comes to the really important matters and then suddenly you’re tight as a clam. Does Phoibe...no, of course she doesn’t know, she’d have said something. When are you going to tell her?”

“We aren’t going to  _ tell _ her,” Kassandra avoided her look. “We’re going to  _ ask _ her. She might not want to come, after all.”

“That’s very considerate of you all of a sudden,” Clio snorted. “That must be Kyra’s influence. And of course she’s going to want to go, don’t be ridiculous,” she got to her feet. “When are you leaving?” 

Kassandra could see how hard she was struggling to keep her composure, could see the muscles of her jaw working as she gritted her teeth.

“We wanted to give her a bit of time to get to know Kyra before we suggested it,” she said awkwardly. “It will be a big change for her and I thought if she could, bond a bit with Kyra first, that it would help give her a bit more security perhaps.”

“Yes, well you’ve handled that as expertly as everything else so far.”

“Clio, sweetheart,” Selene soothed. “We’re all going to miss her, of course we are. But we knew it had to happen. She can’t stay on Kephallonia for the rest of her life.”

“I  _ know _ that,” she turned to look at her and Kassandra caught the tears glittering in her eyes. “Of course I know that. I just didn’t think I’d have it dropped on me just before I had to service a load of sweaty sailors.”

Kyra had been watching this whole scene with a feeling of chilly guilt settling in her belly. She had to admit that they’d failed to really consider any of this, at least she had, and if it had occurred to Kassandra it was one of the things she’d chosen to keep to herself. She looked from Clio, biting her lip as tears rolled down her cheeks to Kassandra, sitting head bowed, her hands between her knees, fingers interlaced.

“Say something Kassandra,” she hissed, giving her a subtle nudge.

She shot a fleeting glance to Kyra, looking for confirmation before getting to her feet. “I’m sorry, Clio. this is my stupid fault. I should have said something right away. I should have said something in the damn letter. It’s not like you’ll never see her again though. She’ll come to visit.”

“The way  _ you _ come to visit?” Clio’s smile was bitter.

“No...no,” Kassandra conceded, shaking her head. “She’ll visit more often than I have, I’m sure of that. And she writes much better letters. I’m sorry Clio, Selene,” she looked over at her. “I made a mess of this whole thing, I know.”

Clio shook her head, looking down at her feet for a few moments before raising her chin suddenly, still tearful, and thumping Kassandra quite hard in the chest.

“You’re an idiot Kass,” she sobbed quietly.

“I know,” she nodded. “Kyra is always telling me that.”

“Well she’s not wrong. And you need to work on it. You’ve made a complete horse’s ass of this whole thing,” her fury seemed to be abating as quickly as it had arisen, but she was still crying. “You listen to me,” she grabbed hold of the front of Kassandra’s tunic. “You look after her... _ both _ of you,” she leaned around her shoulder and looked hard at Kyra. “Because I swear Kass, if anything happens to her, I don’t care how much bigger and stronger than me you are, I will find you and I will kick your ass.”

“I believe you,” Kassandra nodded, reaching out to take a tentative hold of her arms. “I promise you, all of you,” she glanced around. “I will protect her with my life. If she comes back with us and it turns out that she doesn’t like life on Mykonos I will bring her back myself, I swear.”

“She’ll have so many more opportunities on Mykonos, Clio sweetheart,” Selene’s smile was sad, her voice soothing. 

“She’s right, darling,” Iva said softly. “Aphrodite knows we don’t want her ending up marrying that goat farmer's lad with the curly hair.”

“I know,” Clio sniffed. “I  _ do _ know. It was just a shock. And I’m going to miss her so much,” she lay her head against Kassandra’s chest and wrapped her arms about her waist. “Don’t let her forget us.”

“As if you need to worry about that,” she laughed kindly, hugging her tightly and resting her chin lightly against the crown of her head. “And which curly haired lad?” she asked after a pause.

“I don’t think you’ve met him,” Iva shook her head, getting to her feet and coming over to place a comforting hand on Clio’s back. “But he’s noticed Phoibe lately.”

“Hmm...do I need to go and put the fear of Artemis in him?” Kassandra muttered darkly.

“It’s a tempting thought,” Clio wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and moved from Kassandra’s embrace to Iva’s. “But she wouldn’t give him the time of day, no worries there.”

“Come on love,” Iva brushed a soft kiss to her brow. “We need to get ready for work. You can take it out on a few customers, eh?”

Kyra watched them head up the stairs. Once they were out of earshot she released the breath she’d been holding and bowed her head, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh gods...what a total mess we’ve made of this.”

“Don’t be too upset,” Selene comforted. “Believe it or not, it could have gone worse. Clio is remarkably laid back for the vast majority of the time, then she’ll blow up when something really upsets her. It dies as quickly as it’s born. Though, yes,” she got to her feet with a sigh. “A bit of forewarning wouldn’t have gone amiss. I need to get ready now, and check that Phoibe isn’t stealing all the covers. Could you help with the preparations Kassandra, please?”

“Would you like me to help, love?” Kyra rubbed her face wearily, hoping she would decline. She was suddenly hugely tired and wanted nothing more than to stretch out in a bed for the first time in weeks and get some sleep.

Kassandra recognised a reluctant offer when she saw one and laughed.

“No, you should go to bed too. I want to have a quick chat with my replacement and I’m not sure how fascinating brothel door muscle conversation is really.”

“I’m sure it has its charms,” Kyra got to her feet and went over to give her a hug. “Don’t stay up too late will you? We have a day’s hunting ahead of us.”

“And a bed to ourselves at last,” Kassandra grinned. “I won’t be too long, promise.”

Kyra felt herself growing wearier with every step as she made her way up to bed. It felt as though it had been an extraordinarily long day and the bed looked hugely inviting as she closed the door and leaned back against it.

She was so tired that she was almost tempted to fall into bed fully dressed, but at the last minute it occurred to her that there could still be sand in her clothing. Yawning widely she forced herself to undress and shake her clothes out of the window. She’d been right, she saw, as fine streams of sand drifted away in the evening breeze. Brushing her hair quickly, she pulled on the light tunic she’d brought for nightwear and pulled back the covers.

Climbing into bed she heaved a huge contented sigh as she felt herself relax into the soft mattress. The relief was practically orgasmic, stretching out to her full extent feeling her muscles melting into the comforting warmth. She should roll over a bit though, choose a side, leave some room for Kassandra.

She’d fully intended to, but by the time Kassandra entered the room some half an hour later, Kyra was fast asleep stretched out in the middle of the bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

For a few moments Kassandra stood looking at her, her expression warm and affectionate. Kyra looked so comfortable and this was the first chance she’d had to sleep in a bed since they’d left Mykonos she reminded herself. She glanced down at the bear pelt on the floor. There were no pillows or covers again, but she’d slept on it often enough when she lived here.

But...she gazed back at Kyra. It would be so much nicer to climb in beside her, to be able to hold her in a bed that was comfortably wide enough to accommodate them both. As she stood there dithering over the pros and cons of waking her and asking her to roll over a little, Kyra opened her eyes sleepily.

“You’re here,” she gave a drowsy smile that made something flip in Kassandra’s chest. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep but...gods it’s so nice to be in a bed again. Villa life has made me lazy and soft.”

“Life as a sailor has gone some way towards sorting that out,” Kassandra laughed, her voice muffled as she pulled off her tunic. “Bloody sand,” she grumbled, observing the sprinkling on her feet.

“Shake your clothes out of the window,” Kyra mumbled, shuffling over to the side of the bed to make room for her. “Don’t make a mess on Phoibe’s floor. She doesn’t want her bear skin full of sand.”

“I suspect it’s regularly full of cake crumbs,” Kassandra stood naked by the window, flapping her tunic and underwear. “But I take your point.”

As she slipped beneath the covers and stretched hugely, joints cracking, she couldn’t resist heaving a contented sigh.

“Oh gods, this feels good,” she murmured, rolling onto her side and taking Kyra in her arms, hugging her close against her, feeling the warm curve of her buttocks against her crotch, the fragrant waves of her hair against her cheek.

“Mmm, I know,” she ran her hand along Kassandra’s powerful forearm, pulling it more tightly about her. “It seems like an age since we got to sleep in a comfortable bed.”

“Well, I’m not denying that it’s nice to be able to flex my shoulders a bit, but I also meant  _ this _ ,” Kassandra escaped her hold and ran her fingers slowly up the front of Kyra’s thigh, catching the hem of her tunic and inching it up.

Part of Kyra responded instantly, arousal flowing warmly up through her belly, down along her thighs, her skin tingling in the wake of Kassandra’s touch. It had been a  _ while _ , her body whispered, and it  _ wanted _ . She steeled herself to ignore it.

“No, not here love,” she caught her hand before it could reach its target.

Kassandra swallowed the frustrated sigh she’d been on the verge of releasing. Kyra could be particular about matters sexual, especially since becoming Archon, presumably there was some motivation for her hesitation.

“Kyra?” she nosed aside her hair and kissed the back of her neck teasingly. “What is it?”

“We’re not doing this in Phoibe’s bed, Kassandra,” Kyra’s voice was firm but she shivered at the touch of her lips all the same.

“She’s not in it,” Kassandra pointed out, shifting her leg to press her thigh suggestively against her.

“Gods! Don’t be crass,” Kyra reproved. “And stop doing  _ that _ with your leg. I meant what I said.”

“Very well, my love,” she heaved a theatrical sigh. It would be much more pleasant to stay in bed, of course, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d made love on that bear pelt after all. Better to not mention that though, she thought, awkwardly half sitting and clambering over Kyra, dragging a cover with her.

“What in Hera’s name are you doing now?” Kyra kept a firm hold of her end of the blanket.

“I thought you might be more comfortable with a cover,” Kassandra indicated the pelt, “though it’s nice and soft of course,” she held out a hand to her. “And we can get back into bed afterwards.”

“What?” Kyra’s face was less drowsy and more confused now. “Why are you...oh, no, wait. I didn’t make myself clear. We’re not doing this in Phoibe’s  _ bedroom _ .”

Kassandra somehow managed to make her face fall even as her brows raised.

“Kyra?” she mustered a weak laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not,” she yanked the blanket out of her weakening grip. “We are not having sex in a child’s bedroom, Kassandra. There’s a  _ toy _ there on that shelf! A... _ wolf _ is it?”

“Mmm, Barnabas made it for her. One of the legs isn’t quite right, but she loves it. Look” she made to reach for it. “I’ll put it in the chest for now if it bothers you.”

“It’s not the wolf Kassandra, it’s the fact that it’s a child’s toy, in a child’s room. There’s her little tunic hanging on the back of the door,” she nodded. “And her little sandals on the chest.”

“Maybe if you stopped calling everything little, you could stop thinking about it being a child’s room,” Kassandra grumbled. “That was Europa’s bed before it was Phoibe’s. Have you any idea how much sex she and Adrian had in it?”

“A legendary amount I assume, or you wouldn’t be mentioning it,” Kyra sighed. “That’s different, it wasn’t Phoibe’s room when they were in it.”

“Gods Kyra,” Kassandra threw out her hands. “Please love?” there was a faint undercurrent of whine in her voice. “Why do you think Selene insisted on Phoibe sleeping with her tonight? Selene likes her rest after all and Phoibe can be a twitchy little thing.”

“Possibly because she thinks it might be one of the last times she gets to sleep with her for a while?” Kyra replied pointedly, watching Kassandra’s guilty blush. “Don’t whine about it. It’s not attractive.”

“Perhaps it’s just me that you don’t find attractive,” she muttered petulantly.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Kyra shook her head. “Look at you for Aphrodite’s sake!” she eyed her, standing there, polished by the moonlight, well aware that her own rebellious sex was responding quite independently of her brain. 

“If we were anywhere else, I swear. But do not try and guilt me into doing something I don’t feel is right. Look Kassandra,” she continued more softly. “I know it’s been a while, but think about this. What we have now, this relationship? It’s a new arrangement for both of us. The whole  _ being a couple _ thing. So far when we’ve been together it’s been heated and passionate because...well frankly, I’ve never been sure how long you would be around.”

She sat up a little more, leaning back against the pillows and patted the bed beside her hopefully, taking Kassandra’s hand in hers as she sat down, still frowning but more thoughtfully now.

“You’ve promised that you’ll stay, that we’ll make a go of this together, and we both knew that it would be hard work and different. There are going to be times when we’re tired, or I’m working, or one of us is unwell, or just not in the mood, and we have to work out how to deal with that. And it’s not by pouting at me. It just doesn’t feel right, love, in here, with Phoibe just down the corridor. I’m sorry.”

“No, no I’m sorry,” Kassandra gave a sigh and got to her feet. “You’re right. I’m just a bit frustrated and I’d got my hopes up,” she reached for her discarded tunic and pulled it back on. “I’m just going to get a breath of air, cool down a bit,” she walked to the window and swung a leg over the ledge.

“Where are you going?!” Kyra watched in surprise as she slipped out with impressive grace and efficiency, hauling herself up onto the roof. After a moment, her head reappeared, upside down.

“I’m just going to sit and watch the stars for a few minutes, cool my ardour,” she might have been smiling, it was difficult to tell given her inverted position.

“That sounds nice. Would you like me to come sit with you?” she offered.

Kassandra gave a wry laugh.

“Sitting beneath the stars with you, my love, would totally defeat the object of me being up here in the first place.”

“All right,” Kyra nodded hesitantly. “If you’re sure? Don’t fall asleep up there, will you?”

“It has happened,” Kassandra chuckled, “but not tonight, I promise,” she disappeared from sight.

Kyra was right she thought a little while later as she sat on the warm tiles, hugging her knees and feeling her frustrated desire lower to a simmer. This was a new experience for her. Although she’d had any number of sexual relationships, the majority of them had been brief, heated affairs, or casual encounters undertaken to scratch a purely physical itch.

Kyra’s love life had been very different, she was well aware. The awkwardness of her upbringing had seen to that. Living cheek by jowl with firstly Praxos, and then a cave full of male rebels had given her a completely different outlook on that aspect of life. Kassandra was pretty sure that Thaletas had been Kyra’s first real lover and she herself had managed to bring that relationship to an abrupt and painful end.

Whilst they’d somehow managed to navigate that huge stumbling block, a committed relationship like this was new to them both and there were bound to be any number of obstacles ahead. The idea was to negotiate them together though, she decided shaking her head, not to be sitting out here on her own, the warm night breeze in her hair, whilst her w-

Her brain tripped over itself at the word she’d almost thought and she swallowed hard. Whilst her  _ lover _ slept in that warm, comfortable bed alone, she corrected. She was being a fool to herself. She got to her feet and padded quietly to the edge of the roof. Sitting up here when she could be curled up with Kyra in her arms, being lulled to sleep by her soft breath and warm scent?

When she slipped silently back into the bedroom however, she saw that there was a flaw in her plan. In her absence Kyra had fallen back asleep and was lying stretched out like a starfish in the centre of the bed, snoring quietly, her face soft and relaxed. There was no way Kassandra could bring herself to wake her. Carefully leaning over her she brushed the lightest of kisses to her forehead before taking the vacant pillow from beside her and settling down on the bearskin.

She struggled to get to sleep, tossing and turning on the pelt before eventually settling onto her back, hands behind her head, watching the shadows on the ceiling and listening to the faint sounds from downstairs that indicated business was over for the night.

She’d almost decided to go down and see if they needed any help when familiar footsteps on the stairs told her that she’d left it too late. She and Kyra were probably both right about Selene’s motivation for deciding to bunk with Phoibe tonight Kassandra thought, hearing her pass the door and crossing her fingers that Phoibe would repay her by sleeping quietly till a reasonable time.

Her eyelids were beginning to close by the time she heard Clio and Iva entering their room. She’d almost forgotten that you could hear voices through the walls. The words were inaudible but she recognised the cadence of comfort. What an idiot she’d been. What an insensitive idiot, not to consider how much Phoibe would be missed by everyone here. She’d become such a fixture around Sami that her absence would definitely be felt. Even Markos would no doubt miss her, hopefully for more than just her errand running capabilities.

So far very little of the trip had gone according to plan. “Because you didn’t have a plan, fool,” she muttered quietly as the voices from the next room began to indicate that Iva was providing Clio with solace of a more physical nature. 

“Oh Clio...do... _ not _ ,” Kassandra grumbled under her breath, even as she realised it was inevitable. It served her right, she supposed, resigning herself to a night of lying awake with the sounds of love making to her left and Kyra’s gentle snoring to her right.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that Kassandra is one of those folk who hands over other people's presents.

Despite it all though she did fall asleep eventually. When Phoibe burst in some time later, Kassandra wondered why she was waking her in the middle of the night, until she worked out that Kyra had shucked off the blanket at some point and it had fallen over her face.

Pulling it aside and brushing loose hair out of her eyes she saw Phoibe standing in the doorway, looking at her with theatrical sympathy. She’d acquired a stalk of celery from somewhere.

“Did you two have a row?” she didn’t sound particularly distressed by the idea. “Not to worry. Everyone has rows now and again, even Iva and Clio have fallen out...not very often...but a couple of times. No one ever had to sleep on the floor though,” she leaned against the door frame, crunching noisily.

“We did not have a row,” Kassandra said, mostly truthfully. “And keep your voice down a bit, Kyra’s asleep.”

“Well she needs to be awake,” Phoibe pointed out, “we’re going hunting remember? I mean unless she wants to have a rest day,” she sounded a shade overeager. “If she’s tired she could have a nice day here, and we…”

“She’s coming with us, Phoibe,” Kassandra replied firmly, getting to her feet and draping the blanket back on the bed. “I’ll wake her in a bit, you go have some breakfast, put together a few things for us to take with us, eh?”

“All right,” she sounded vaguely disappointed. “When you say “wake her up”, you _do_ just mean…”

“I mean just what I said, Phoibe,” she gave her a warning glance. “And don’t pack any figs. You fell on them last time.”

“Only because you pushed me,” she protested over her shoulder. 

“To teach you to expect the unexpected,” Kassandra smirked.

When they joined her in the kitchen Phoibe was so busy bundling up bread and cheese and filling water skins that she didn’t even notice the cloth wrapped parcel that Kassandra hid under the table.

“Apples or pears?” she asked without looking round.

“Both,” Kassandra took a seat. “Have you packed  _ all _ the food we had?” she looked around at a selection of empty plates and bowls.

“We can get something to eat on the way,” Kyra poured water for them, as Clio descended the stairs, yawning and stretching. This was clearly an unusual occurrence judging by the way Phoibe and Kassandra reacted.

“Someone was rampaging around like a Minotaur this morning,” she ruffled Phoibe’s hair in passing. “And before you ask, I forgot to take up any water last night, that’s why I’m here.”

“I’ll fill that for you,” Phoibe took the jug from her and trotted out.

There was a mildly uncomfortable silence, broken only by the sound of Phoibe working the pump in the yard.

“I’m sorry about that performance last night,” Clio said at last. “I made a bit of an exhibition…”

“Don’t,” Kassandra interrupted. “You really don’t have anything to apologise for. That was all my fault.”

“True,” Clio smiled wryly. “By the way, in all the excitement we forgot to tell you that it’s crew night tonight. So I don’t know how long you three are going to be out decimating the wildlife, but you might want to bear that in mind.”

“Crew night?” Kyra frowned, puzzled.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Clio laughed. “There are a lot of frisky sailors aboard the Adrestia after all. Cooped up with only each other for company, all the way from Mykonos.”

“Oh!...ah, yes...I suppose so, I hadn’t thought about that,” Kyra concentrated on her cup.

“You know, now I come to think of it,” Clio smirked as Phoibe came back, carefully cradling the full jug. “I suppose that  _ you’re _ technically a crew member now, Kyra, so…”

“Very amusing,” Kassandra shook her head. “But don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’m quite sure Kyra can make her own decisions,” Clio gave her a playful wink as she caught her eye. “There’s something to be said for trying the options before you decide after all?”

“I’ll bear that in mind, if we’re back in time,” Kassandra was pleased to see Kyra make a decent attempt to return the teasing.

“Well, you three have fun and stay safe,” Clio turned to Phoibe. “Especially you, little one,” she reached out suddenly and cradled her face gently between both hands. “I don’t tell you often enough, Phoibe. But you  _ do _ know that I love you, don’t you?”

“Ye-es?” she looked confused. “I love you too, Clio.”

“You’re like the little sister I never had,” she smiled wistfully, stroking Phoibe’s cheeks with her thumbs. “And if I’d been allowed to choose? Out of all the girls in the world, I’d have chosen you, Phoibe,” she bent and kissed her softly.

“Thank...you,” Phoibe replied hesitantly. “Clio? Are you...all right?”

“I’m fine,” she blinked and smiled brightly. “Absolutely fine,” she pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “You go have fun, and try and stay out of trouble.” She took the jug from her and headed for the stairs. “Remember what I said Kyra,” she resumed her normal jocular tone. “Iva and I would be only too happy to fit you in.”

“What was all that about?” Phoibe asked once she was safely out of earshot. “Clio isn’t...she isn’t  _ ill _ is she?” she scratched the back of her neck thoughtfully.

“Just because she told you that she loves you?” Kassandra sounded evasive.

“Well...not...no...not exactly...just..” she frowned, puzzled.

“Clio is fine,” Kassandra said airily, reaching under the table for a distraction. “She’s allowed a sincere moment now and again, surely?”

“I suppose so, yes,” Phoibe drew her eyes away from the stairs with evident reluctance and looked at the cloth wrapped parcel on the table. “What’s that?”

“It’s for you,” Kassandra grinned. “Open it up!” she pushed it towards her.

The bow was magnificent. Kyra had got the idea after studying the carved wooden eagle that Phoibe had given to Kassandra. It sat in pride of place on a shelf above their bed and when she’d been thinking of a suitable introductory gift for her, Kyra had recalled the distinctive feather pattern carved into its wings. 

She’d talked with Kassandra, determining Phoibe’s height and upper body strength, overestimating both just a little to account for growth since her last visit. With the measurements in hand, she’d asked permission to borrow the eagle carving and had taken it to the bowyer. Together he and she had sat and designed a bow of suitable size and weight with the feathering carefully replicated on its limbs, and shallow carved eagle’s heads at the top and bottom of the grip.

From the moment she’d taken delivery Kyra had known it was a beautiful thing, but she’d been nervous that the measurements would be grossly wrong, that Kassandra would have massively under or over calculated. When she’d first seen Phoibe standing on the dock with her arms about Kassandra’s waist she had breathed a sigh of relief. However scattershot she might have been regarding every other aspect of this trip, Kassandra knew just how big Phoibe was.

She looked suitably impressed as she eyed it, even a little awestruck, as she reached out towards it. Right up till the moment Kassandra spoke.

“It’s a beautiful weapon no? Kyra had it made specially for you. I told her how tall you were, how strong, and she had the craftsman carve the feathers so they’d match Chara’s. He did a good job, no?” 

Phoibe drew her hand back slowly, a puzzled frown developing as she looked up at Kassandra. She was grinning happily, seemingly unaware that there was anything the least bit odd about this. Phoibe was puzzled, Kassandra had ingrained in her from the start that you shouldn’t take anything for nothing. Even her semi regular second breakfasts at Sophitia’s stall were paid for with odd jobs and a rabbit now and again. It all balanced out. What could possibly be on the opposite side of the balance to something like this?

“I can’t take this,” she said quietly, turning to give Kyra a quick look. “Thank you. It is a beautiful bow. But I can’t take it. I’m sorry.”

Kassandra gave an astonished splutter. “What do you mean you can’t take it? Of course you can take it. It was made for you!”

“This is a really expensive bow,” Phoibe shook her head. “I can’t take such an expensive gift from a stranger.”

“Gods!” Kassandra gave a short irritated huff. “What now?! Kyra isn’t a stranger. She’s with me. She’s my girlfriend. It’s not like some random person walked up to you in town and tried to give you this.”

“But I hardly know her,” Phoibe protested. “You’ve always told me it’s not right to take something for nothing.”

This was a genuinely beautiful piece of work and must have cost a great deal. Why would anyone spend so much, go to so much trouble to make a gift for someone they’d never even met? 

And the feathering. The feathering was too much. Too much altogether. Her mater had given Chara to her. Phoibe had passed her to Kassandra in the hope that the bird’s presence would be a constant reminder of her, waiting on Kephallonia, hoping for her return. Why was Kyra so familiar with Chara in the first place?

“You hardly know her because you’ve made no effort to  _ get _ to know her,” Kassandra gesticulated irritably. “Gods Phoibe, this isn’t charity, it’s a gift. I’d have snatched off someone’s arm for a weapon like this when I was your age. You haven’t even…”

“No, she’s right,” Kyra’s voice was stiff and cool as she tried to disguise her hurt. “It was presumptuous of me. One can only offer a gift, not force its acceptance. We should go, no? You must both be hungry.”

She got to her feet, tight lipped and made for the door. She had overstepped the mark no doubt, but gods, she could do no right with this girl it seemed.

“Gods teeth, Phoibe!” Kassandra crossed her arms, scowling darkly. “Could you be any less grateful, do you think? It’s a gift. And a practical one at that! I thought we could try it out today? Kyra is a magnificent hunter. She would be happy to teach you.”

“ _ You _ teach me though,” Phoibe pouted, looking at the graceful arc of the bow’s limbs, the richly burnished wood.

“And I still will,” Kassandra sounded exasperated. “But it’s useful to have more than one tutor. You can learn different things, new techniques. I’m a good hunter, but Kyra has taught  _ me _ many things. I swear Phoibe…” she shook her head wearily.

There was a deeply awkward silence, Kyra standing in the doorway, Phoibe looking gloomily at the bow. For her part Kassandra looked as though she intended to sit at the table for the rest of the day now.

“Are we still going hunting?” Phoibe asked quietly at last.

“I don’t know,” Kassandra muttered petulantly. “I’m not sure I feel like it now. And how are you going to hunt with no bow?”

Kyra gave a heavy sigh and turned back to face them.

“Don’t be petty Kassandra, it doesn’t suit you,” she shook her head. “Phoibe has a perfectly good bow already I imagine. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to go out with a brand new weapon when we’re hunting to eat anyway.”

She made her way over to the table and picked up the bow.

“I’ll go and put this in your room, Phoibe. It will be there when.. _ .if _ you decide that you know me well enough to accept it.”

Phoibe looked over to Kassandra, she was sitting, arms crossed, sulkily chewing at the inside of her cheek. Apart from that she hadn’t moved a muscle.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, barely audible.

“It’s Kyra you should be apologising to,” Kassandra grumbled. “She seems to still want to go hunting, so you’d better get your bow. Where is it?”

“In my room,” Phoibe muttered, confused and irritated. How was it that Kassandra couldn’t understand her reluctance? Kassandra, who wouldn’t take a chunk of grilled eel from Sophitia without doing something in exchange for it, even if what she did couldn’t always be accurately described as  _ work _ .

“Then go and get it. And see if you can avoid upsetting Kyra any more than she already is while you’re doing it.”

Phoibe didn’t need to go and fetch her bow, Kyra was already halfway down the stairs with the well worn weapon in her hand.

“I take it this is yours?” she weighed it in her hand before taking an experimental draw. “It’s a nice bow,” she carefully eased the bowstring back into resting position and handed it over.

“Kassandra got it for me,” Phoibe said quietly, stroking the work smoothed grip briefly before slinging it over her shoulder.

“I see. Then of course you should hunt with it today,” Kyra replied stiffly, embarrassed as well as hurt by the rejection. “You’ll be far more successful with a familiar weapon.”

As she passed her on her way downstairs, Phoibe saw the bow strapped to Kyra’s back. It would be wise to make some sort of conciliatory gesture she decided, to show Kassandra that she was making an effort.

“That’s a very beautiful bow,” she followed her down.

“Thank you,” Kyra’s voice was still tight. “I took it from a dead Athenian.”

Right. Okay. That had been unexpected Phoibe thought, unsure if she was serious or not. Kassandra was standing by the door now, the bundle of food hanging from her outstretched hand.

“Here, you can carry this,” she handed it to Phoibe. “We need to get something for the others while we’re about it, we can’t disappear for the day and not even leave them any bread in the kitchen.”

Phoibe wasn’t entirely surprised when Kassandra asked her, or rather told her, to run back with some bread and fruit once they had bought breakfast for themselves. By the time she caught back up with them, Kassandra was halfway through a flatbread folded around some cheese and figs. 

She seemed in a more affable mood. She really didn’t have much stamina for sulking and no doubt the food had helped, but Phoibe also suspected that Kyra had laid out some ground rules for the day. Kassandra seemed rather too willing to follow instructions when Kyra was the one issuing them, she decided. 

She was strolling alongside Kassandra, as Phoibe trotted up to join them, close enough that she suspected they’d been holding hands in her absence, but she moved away a little as Phoibe fell into step with them. 

“You got back just in time,” Kassandra’s smile seemed genuine enough. “I was just thinking about having your pastry for dessert,” she handed it over.

They walked on in relative silence for a while, the only real noise the sound of eating. Eventually, Kassandra licked her fingers clean, dried them on her tunic and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked down at Phoibe. Uncharacteristically she still had half the pastry in her hand and was picking disconsolately at the edges.

“Look, little one,” Kassandra draped a heavy arm across her shoulders. “We all got off to a bad start this morning. We had a busy day yesterday one way and another and I didn’t sleep well and I’ll own up and say I was a bit grumpy. But you were a bit rude too! Anyway,” she pursed her lips thoughtfully and kicked at a clump of grass in passing. “Why don’t we forget all that now and start again? There’s no sense in us heading out for a day together if we’re going to be sulky and bad tempered about it. We’ll all just make each other miserable. What do you say?”

Phoibe looked up at her. She looked just like her old, familiar Kassandra, bright eyed and hopeful, her smile a little sheepish. Things would be all right, she decided. It wasn’t the first time that Kassandra had been distracted and self absorbed around a new girlfriend. She was always preoccupied with them at first. This would pass too.

“All right,” she decided to be generous. “I was a bit weird about the bow. But it was strange, no?” she leaned around Kassandra and looked warily at Kyra. “I’m sorry if I was rude about it though. It’s a gorgeous bow. Whoever made it is very skilled.”

Kyra had been pretending interest in the scenery, such as it was, but really she’d been reflecting on the morning’s events. She and Kassandra had talked while Phoibe was running back to Selene’s with provisions. If they were going to carry on with their plans for the day then clearly they needed to try and put the whole incident behind them.

Kassandra was managing better than Kyra though, she thought. She was still cut by Phoibe’s instant refusal of her gift. And if she was honest, a little annoyed with Kassandra. Why hadn’t she considered this when they’d been talking about it together back on Mykonos? 

“That’s better,” Kassandra grinned affably, ruffling Phoibe’s hair. “It’s a lovely smooth pull too. I tried it out a bit. I mean it’s too small for me obviously, but I got a feel for the action. We could try it out tomorrow, perhaps? Target practice maybe?” 

Phoibe was prepared to apologise for getting the day off to a bad start, but she still wasn’t convinced she was going to take that bow. It would have been quite another thing if Kassandra had given it to her, that would have been wonderful, but the most she’d ever received from any of her previous girlfriends was the odd cake or pastry here and there. Unless you counted Pero supplying her with new sandals periodically, and Phoibe wasn’t quite sure what _that_ was all about.

The morning’s events had resulted in them reaching Phoibe’s favoured hunting grounds a good deal later than she’d anticipated. The field was usually alive with rabbits first thing, but by now most of them had retreated underground to avoid the blazing midday sun.

“It’s fine,” Kassandra seemed untroubled. “If we go settle over by that little copse, stay quiet and keep a keen eye out there’ll be a couple of impetuous ones come by, there generally are. And if not, then it’s bread and cheese again. We’ll at least be able to make a fire and melt the cheese eh? It won’t be so bad,” she led them over into the shade and flopped down cross legged to wait, patting the grass beside her for Kyra to sit.

For someone who was so energetic the rest of the time Kassandra could be remarkably patient when settled down to hunt. Phoibe suspected that it had to do with the nature of the prey she’d hunted once she left Kephallonia. She didn’t loot all that armour and weaponry from corpses she just found lying about after all, that would be ridiculous. Kassandra refused to go into the details with her, but Phoibe wasn’t a fool.

She’d thought about it a lot while she’d been away. If Kassandra killed people then it must be because they were really bad people who deserved it. Or because they wanted to kill her for some reason. She was so reverent even about the rabbits she shot that there was no way she would just casually murder people. 

She was a little distracted and twitchy today though, she thought, watching her out of the corner of her eye. Phoibe suspected she was rather more interested in Kyra than rabbits. Well she was just going to have to put a lid on that till they got back.

Kyra on the other hand? She was a bit of an enigma. Phoibe leaned back on her heels a little to withdraw from her peripheral vision in order to watch her discreetly. She was motionless as a rock and seemed totally oblivious to anything outside of the area of field she was monitoring. She’d loosely nocked an arrow and had the bow held, light but ready, her fingers relaxed around the string. 

The arrows were unusual, Phoibe thought, the heads at least. There was some sort of curious grooving or channeling that she’d never seen before. Was it to allow for deeper penetration, she wondered? Increased blood loss? Or maybe it had something to do with speed or trajectory? She would ask Kassandra later.

They seemed like odd arrows for a casual hunter though, whatever they were. And it was a very good quality bow that clearly saw regular use. Had she been telling the truth about taking it from a dead Athenian? A soldier? Had _she_ killed him? How? And why? 

Kassandra’s previous girlfriends had all kinds of occupations, farmers, dressmakers, leather workers, hetaerae. What did Kyra do? Kassandra had managed to avoid answering the question when Phoibe had asked it the previous day. 

She knew how to handle a bow. She’d been reluctant to undress at the beach. She seemed intelligent, well spoken and was clearly used to issuing instructions and having them followed. How did that all fit in with the Daughters of Artemis information, she wondered, frowning thoughtfully.

Phoibe was so preoccupied with her speculations that the musical sound of an arrow being released made her flinch. She looked up quickly, Kyra was lowering her bow with a small but satisfied smile on her lips.

“Oh! Shot, Kyra!” Kassandra beamed, patting her shoulder. “That was incredible, no, Phoibe?” she nudged her so excitedly that Phoibe almost fell over from her crouching position. 

She hadn’t meant to deliberately miss Kyra’s shot, she’d simply been distracted by her thoughts, but she knew full well what it would look like.

“Go collect it for us, Phoibe,” Kassandra ruffled her hair. “This is why Kyra has a dog back home to do her retrieving,” she laughed.

“Ah...right…” Phoibe swallowed awkwardly, avoiding Kassandra’s eyes.

“Gods’ teeth,” she grumbled, “you weren’t even looking? How in Hades were you going to take anything down while you were daydreaming there?”

“I’m sorry, I got distracted for a moment. Where is it? I’ll go get it,” she got to her feet.

“Over by the hyssop,” Kassandra sighed, wafting a hand in the general direction of the field and being no help at all.

Kyra’s pleased smile had faded and she was looking somewhat crestfallen. She’d presumably hoped to impress Phoibe with her prowess, but the rabbit was down now, no point sulking about it. Phoibe was scanning around for the hyssop Kassandra had mentioned and settled on a small patch off to their right.

“There?” she gave Kyra an apologetic look as she nodded to the small cluster of shrubs.

“No, no. Over there!” Kyra leaned in a little closer and held out her hand.

Phoibe followed her pointing finger. And followed, and followed, and followed.

“What? Over by that...whatever that tree is, I can’t make it out,” she squinted into the distance. 

Kyra nodded silently. Her smile was back and it looked a little smug now.

“That’s the one,” Kassandra slapped Phoibe on the back. “Jog. We want it before suppertime.”

She gave them both a dubious look, but Kassandra merely nodded decisively off in the direction that Kyra had indicated. As she tramped off across the field it occurred to Phoibe that they were sending her on a wild goose chase, or a wild rabbit chase, she supposed. Probably to teach her a lesson for being a brat earlier. 

She looked back over her shoulder fully expecting to see them laughing at her. They weren’t even watching though. They weren’t laughing or even fooling around. To Phoibe’s surprise they seemed to be studying Kassandra’s bow. Kyra was offering her one of her own arrows and had her hand over Kassandra’s. Were they discussing technique, Phoibe frowned? Was Kyra giving Kassandra advice? Instruction? Was she taking it?

As she stood there watching, feeling both bemused and somewhat affronted on her behalf, Kassandra looked up and saw her.

“Come on, get a move on, Phoibe!” she bellowed. “It’ll be too dark to find it at this rate.” she waved a hand airily.

“You have got to be fucking joking,” she muttered, safely out of earshot. “There is no way she hit a rabbit all the way out here,” she stomped on towards the bushes. “I don’t know what she thinks she hit but there’s no… … … shit!” she breathed, coming to a halt.

A huge buck lay stretched out on its side right in front of the clump of hyssop that Kyra had indicated, an arrow right between his eyes, the head sticking out of the back of his skull.

“Damn!” she whispered, picking it up. It hung in her hand ridiculously heavy. There was no way, surely? Phoibe turned and looked back. Kyra and Kassandra were back in discussion, heads together over the arrows. 

Phoibe looked from them, down to the rabbit and back again. Kyra was lithely muscled and athletic certainly, but even from this distance the difference between the two women was readily apparent. Kassandra’s powerful shoulders and arms, her upper body strength, were obvious. Phoibe had tried and failed to draw her bow on a number of occasions. It would take someone of her strength to...she smiled slowly.

“Yes, good job,” she muttered. “You nearly had me. Who overcooked it this time?” she yanked the arrow out of the rabbit’s head with a grunt and set off back.

Kassandra had clearly spotted Phoibe’s mind off in the aether, taken one of Kyra’s arrows and shot this buck in an attempt to impress her by proxy. And she’d have succeeded too, if she hadn’t overdone it. Still she couldn’t be entirely blamed for that, Phoibe supposed. She’d had to shoot whichever rabbit appeared, and even Phoibe had to admit that Kassandra could be a bit of a show off about things like this at times.

As she drew near she contemplated calling them on it, letting them know that she was paying attention _now_. As if to make a liar of her, Kassandra whistled sharply. Phoibe looked up and saw her waving off in the direction of a tree stump to her right.

“Come on Phoibe, get your head in the game,” she laughed. “I’ve just brought down another one there, about five, six feet to the left of that stump.”

She seemed in good humour now anyway, Phoibe thought collecting the second rabbit, this one with Kassandra’s arrow very obviously in its side. She would let them have their little joke, no point risking a flare up of this morning’s argument.

She was so distracted by this that she didn’t even protest when Kassandra announced that the two rabbits were enough.

“We’ll target shoot after we’ve eaten,” she consoled Phoibe. “You can impress us with your campfire cooking skills for now if you like?”

Phoibe definitely preferred to cook than to eat Kassandra’s roast rabbit when it came down to it. As she made the fire and constructed a little spit for the meat, Kyra gutted and skinned them. Phoibe noticed that before she did so, she mouthed something silently. It was a good deal longer than Kassandra’s brief expression of respect. Was Kyra religious as well as everything else? 

That would be a first for Kassandra, Phoibe thought, taking the carcasses and skewering them. She was what Clio had once generously described as “casually observant”. When Phoibe had queried the definition Clio had explained that it meant she just did the bits she fancied. Respect for her prey presumably suited her, but Phoibe couldn’t remember her ever visiting temple or making an offering.

Kyra though had spent time with the Daughters of Artemis. Phoibe didn’t know much about them beyond the more provocative bits of speculation. But it couldn’t be _all_ dancing naked in the moonlight and taming wild beasts, she decided. There was bound to be some religious aspect to it as well. She cast a glance over to Kassandra. She was reclining on her elbows gazing besotted at Kyra, a familiar hungry glitter about her eyes.

Phoibe turned the meat. “Good luck there, Kassandra,” she thought to herself. “She doesn’t seem much like one for naked dancing in the moonlight, and she said she can’t tame wild animals, that’s just going to leave praying to Artemis,” she chuckled.

The women were flatteringly appreciative of Phoibe’s cooking skills when she shared out the meat, providing Kyra with most of the saddle from the big rabbit by way of a peace offering. She suspected that Kassandra, when hungry enough, would eat an old sandal if you drizzled enough olive oil on it. But Kyra had been a modest eater so far and her compliments seemed genuine, which was flattering.

Eventually the rabbits were pretty much skeletonized. Kassandra had cracked one of the long bones with her teeth, something that Selene was forever telling her off about. She reclined on one elbow now, sucking out the meagre marrow and gazing at Kyra with an expression that suggested she was wondering about dealing with other appetites.

Phoibe had been on one or two picnics before that had included a hiatus for Kassandra to disappear off into the woods with whichever third party was accompanying them, but she wasn’t having it today.

“Oh!” a suitable distraction suddenly occurred to her. “Kassandra! In all the excitement I forgot to tell you about Europa!”

“What’s happened to her?” Kassandra dropped the bone as she turned to look at Phoibe’s excited face.

“Nothing!” she held up her hands soothingly. “Well, nothing bad,” she laughed. “You’ll never guess. Do you want to guess? No never mind, you'll never get it. She’s going to have a baby!”

“No!” Kassandra sat up, grinning delightedly. “That’s wonderful. She must be so excited. Are you all right, love?” she noticed Kyra making a hash out of uncorking the water skin.

“I’m fine, fine,” she swallowed, brushing the spill from her knees. “It’s nothing, carry on. Europa is pregnant?” she avoided Kassandra’s look. Was it just that she was feeling especially sensitive about it, or was Kassandra talking about babies more than usual of late? Though, in fairness, if she was talking about them  _ at all _ , it was already more than usual.

“She’ll be a great mater, don’t you think?” Phoibe was slicing an apple and handed a piece to Kassandra. 

“She’ll be a really sweet mother,” Kassandra smiled. “I hope Adrian can keep a firm hand on the reins or that baby will run rings round them.”

“Crawl rings round them,” Phoibe suggested, offering a slice of apple to Kyra.

“No, thank you though, Phoibe,” she shook her head. “When is the baby due?” she asked quietly, turning the cork in her fingers.

“Hmm, good question,” Phoibe chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know a lot about babies. I mean I know how you make one but...what does it take, nearly a year or something?”

“Eight, nine cycles or something,” Kassandra shrugged. “It’s not anything I’ve ever had to worry about.”

“Just as well,” Phoibe said dryly, handing her more apple. “You’d have a whole crew by now.”

“There are ways to avoid that,” she shook her head. “Ask Selene, she’s never had any children. Or Clio.”

“I can’t see Clio being a mater, can you?” Phoibe chewed thoughtfully. “I mean she’s kind and funny and good at telling you stuff that other people don’t want to but…”

“No,” Kassandra considered. “I don’t see her wanting children. I think the plan is that she’ll take over the place from Selene in time.”

Phoibe chewed and nodded.

“Yeah, I think so. Probably just as well that she doesn’t want babies then really. It would be hard to look after children  _ and _ run a business as well I expect.”

“And she’d need to avail herself of a man for non-business purposes,” Kassandra laughed.

Phoibe nearly inhaled a piece of apple and spluttered tearfully.

“Yeah...I don’t see that happening,” she shook her head when she’d recovered her breath. “I guess that is one of the advantages of doing it with other women, eh?”

“That and they smell better,” Kassandra chuckled. “Kyra?” she saw her scrambling to her feet. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, absolutely, I’m fine,” she sounded flustered. She’d had no real excuse in mind when she stood. She’d simply wanted to get away from their flippant dismissal of a subject that had been lurking in the corners of her mind with increasingly regularity. “I’m just going to…” she waved over towards a clump of tall bushes. “Going to…”

“Answer nature’s call?” Kassandra suggested politely.

“Yes! That’s right. I won’t be long.” 

She seemed to grasp at the suggestion a little over eagerly, Phoibe thought, watching as she walked away. She turned and looked at Kassandra who was also watching her curiously.

“Is she always this bashful?” Phoibe queried. “You’d think the Daughters of Artemis would be peeing in the bushes all the time, no?”

“I’ll tell you who will be peeing in the bushes all the time pretty soon,” Kassandra grinned. “Poor Europa, I know that much about carrying a baby.”

When Kyra returned from pretending to answer nature’s call, she found Kassandra and Phoibe tidying up their little makeshift camp, covering the fire and burying the bones.

Kassandra had decided that they would move on a little way to target shoot, and Kyra was feeling too volatile and distracted by the earlier baby talk to contribute much to the discussion.

“I think we should go somewhere a little more densely wooded, then if we miss our targets the arrows will lodge in the nearby trunks.”

“We can’t leave them there though, right,” Phoibe was trotting along beside her. “Think about Odessa’s ass. Well not her ass exactly, about the scar.”

“We’ll collect them of course. You can’t afford to lose that many arrows.”

“What do you mean  _ I _ can’t afford to?” she protested, clearly affronted. “What makes you think I’m going to be the one missing?”

“Oh don’t get upset, little hunter,” Kassandra patted her shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just that you are the one most likely to miss a few, let’s face it. You didn’t get your eye in by killing a rabbit earlier after all.”

“I didn’t get the chance to. I totally could have. Anyway Kyra didn’t get her eye in either!” she had been prepared to let them have their joke earlier, but she wasn’t going to let Kassandra make capital on it for the rest of the day.

“What do you mean?” Kassandra looked down, taken aback. “Kyra brought down that big fat buck.”

“Yeah right!” Phoibe rolled her eyes. “It was a good joke, I get it. You must have timed it perfectly, so I definitely give you both credit for that. But I know that _you_ shot it. There’s no way she hit a rabbit from that distance.”

“She absolutely…”

“Excuse me,” Kyra interrupted. “ _ She _ is right here! I certainly  _ did _ hit that buck, whether you were looking at the time or not.”

“Oh, let it go,” Phoibe shook her head laughing. “There’s no way that bow has the weight to send a shaft clean through a rabbit’s skull at that range.”

“I think you’d be surprised at what this bow is capable of,” Kyra snapped, feeling the day’s frustration and disappointment bubbling suddenly to the surface. “I could have had a flashier weapon long ago, had I wished. I wouldn’t even have needed anyone to give it to me as a present,” she finished, even though she already knew it would feel mean spirited on reflection.

“And Kyra is an excellent technician,” Kassandra smiled proudly at her. “You could learn a lot Phoibe, by watching Kyra’s stance. And her grip is unusual, but it might suit you actually.”

“All right,” Phoibe waved as they approached the treeline. “Let’s find out just how good her bow is.”

“I have a fucking name, Phoibe!” Kyra snapped, the end of her tether slipping from her grasp. “And it’s not the bow that’s good.  _ I _ am!”

“Language, Kyra,” Phoibe remarked dryly.

“All right, that’s enough,” Kassandra came to a halt. “Phoibe you need to apologise and I think we should put this off till tomorrow. Everyone’s tempers are a bit frayed, let’s…”

“No, let’s do this,” Kyra dropped her quiver and flexed her fingers. She’d had about enough for today. She’d been nothing but pleasant to Phoibe since she first stepped off the Adrestia and the girl had been grudging at best and downright rude at worst. If she wanted to come back to Mykonos with them then she was damn well going to have to learn to share Kassandra, the same way that Kyra was clearly expected to. She could start showing a bit of respect and she could start right now.

“All right,” Kassandra recognised that look. She held up a placatory hand and looked about her. “Okay,” she rummaged in the depleted pack and produced a small, sad looking apple. “Do you have a knife Phoibe? Hand it over,” she strode a good distance away towards a rough barked tree and thrust Phoibe’s skinning knife into the trunk, settling the apple on top of the blade. She pressed down a little, feeling it crunch. It seemed secure enough.

She was getting an uncomfortable feeling about this whole thing as she strode back, dry grass dusting the toes of her boots with each step. Phoibe was clearly feeling stroppy and Kyra’s temper could be volatile at times. She’d been on the receiving end of an unexpected volcanic outburst herself often enough to want to avoid one right now.

They were standing a couple of yards apart, checking their bows and selecting arrows. Phoibe was a very good shot for her age, but Kyra was in a completely different league. There would be sulking and tears before bedtime if Kassandra wasn’t careful here.

“Right then,” she took her own bow from her shoulder and flashed a quick, hopeful smile at the pair of them. It was totally wasted. They were both scrutinizing their arrows. “Let’s see which of us can get an arrow into that apple,” she slid a shaft from her quiver. “Closest one wins bragging rights. And if we all get our arrows in the apple then we’re  _ all _ the best archers in the Aegean and we stop arguing about it, agreed? Tell you what, I’ll go first, while you two settle yourselves.”

Kissing the taut bowstring she took a steadying breath. It would be a decent but not really challenging shot for her to hit it right in the centre, but she had to put pride in the shade for now. She couldn’t afford to make it obvious by missing too widely, she needed to be close, but not too close. Which actually made it a bit more difficult she realised. Eyeing her mark she aimed a whisker too high and a shade too far to the right. 

Relaxing her fingers she released the string and the arrow flew straight and sure, right where she’d aimed. It was as close to the apple as it could be without being in the flesh. She was pretty confident that the edge of the arrowhead had just cut the skin. Swallowing her smile she lowered her bow and turned to the others, giving a playfully theatrical bow in an attempt to lighten the mood. They seemed less impressed than she’d hoped, but then they thought she’d missed of course.

“Beat that, Phoibe,” she patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll need a full draw. There’s no wind to speak of though.”

“I’ve got it,” she said quietly, taking a few steps forward and raising her bow. Kassandra had missed the bloody apple on purpose, she knew that. Trying to make her feel better, no doubt. Phoibe wasn’t going to miss though, she was going to skewer the damn thing.

Kassandra watched intently as Phoibe held the bow rock steady, fixed her eyes on her target, drew back smooth and slow and then released.

The arrow sang through the air almost straight and true. Almost. Phoibe gave a frustrated little grunt as it slammed home in the trunk in almost exactly the same position as Kassandra’s, just on the opposite side of the apple.

“Well!” Kassandra slapped her hands on her thighs. “Excellent shot Phoibe! Honestly, that is really, really good. Very small target. We’ve wedged that apple in there good and tight between us, no?” she gave her a pat on the back. “As it stands, we are both the best archers in the Aegean. Let’s see if Kyra can topple us.”

Phoibe looked disappointed, but Kassandra’s praise, condescendingly expressed as it was, had been genuine in spirit. It was a tiny target from this range. There was no doubt in her mind, however, that Kyra could hit it front and centre. Kassandra just needed her to be the bigger person now, and miss by a whisker.

“Hey!” she said brightly, as though the idea had just this instant occurred to her. “Kyra, see if you can hit it up top, about where the stalk is, let’s fence it in.”

There was no response. Kassandra glanced over, Kyra already had the bow raised and drawn, and judging by the concentrated determination on her face she’d had it there for some time.

For her part, Kyra had no intention of aiming for the bloody stalk. 

She’d bent over backwards to accommodate Phoibe, she’d been friendly and polite, she’d slept on the damn bear skin, she’d given them time alone together, she’d been prepared to leap in to her defense when it had seemed as though Kassandra might lose her temper at Markos’. And at every stage her efforts had been ignored, rebuffed, deliberately misinterpreted. It seemed as though Phoibe was bound and determined to be obstructive and unimpressed. 

But Kyra had something in her armory that would make her sit up and take notice. She was going to do something that she hadn’t done in an age. In fact she didn’t even want to think about the last time she’d done this. A voice at the back of her mind told her that this reluctance was a warning in itself, but she pushed it aside.

Closing her eyes, she took a long, slow breath in through her nose, let it fill her chest, settle there. She centered herself, blocked out everything around her, Phoibe’s muttering to Kassandra, the whisper of the slight breeze in the branches, the chatter of birds in the woods.

She was going to bake that fucking apple.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that Kassandra is not a temple goer, and that Kyra may have a literal short fuse.

Kassandra could barely believe her eyes as she watched what was happening. The arrowhead seemed to glow and flicker for an instant, as if the very air around it was melting, before small blue flames licked about the metal, running up the indented channels that Phoibe had observed earlier and suddenly bursting into rich, orange life. 

The only times Kassandra had seen Kyra summon flame like this had been in the height of combat during the rebellion. It had been something astounding and inexplicable that she’d caught out of the corner of her eye as they fought for their lives. Whenever she’d tried to broach the subject in calmer moments Kyra had been evasive and shied away from an explanation. 

Kassandra wasn’t even sure that she _ could _ explain it, that anyone could explain it. It was so long ago that she’d almost forgotten the matter. It was easier to pretend that it had never happened. That it was something her imagination had dreamt up in the heat of battle.

But now, suddenly, here was Kyra standing in the sun on Kephallonia of all places, conjuring something mystical, something she’d suggested was sacred in a way. And she was doing so to win a silly contest. To shoot at an...apple? This wasn’t right.

“Kyra...no...don’t…” she breathed, reaching out a hand.

Kyra was absolutely focused. Nothing existed but that orange flame licking seductively along the shaft of the arrow, tongues advancing and retreating with every breath in and out. All the tension of the day was gone, melted into the dancing heat inches away from her fingers, moving so close now that she could feel the fine hairs on the back of her hand singe, smell the distinctive scent.

Phoibe, realizing that Kassandra had stopped listening to her chatter, turned to look in the direction of her gaze, followed her shaking hand and saw -

“Holy shit, Kyra!!”

Phoibe’s sudden exclamation cut through everything. The peace, the calm, the focus, all blasted away in an instant. Kyra flinched, the bow jerked in her hand, the string plucked like a lyre and the arrow escaped, flaring and sputtering through the air.

“No. Gods. Shit!” Kyra dropped the bow like a hot coal, and watched in horror as the blazing arrow struck the knife hilt, glanced off the trunk sending smoldering chunks of bark dropping to the ground, and flew out of sight between the trees.

Even as the arrow left the bow she had known that something terrible was going to happen, had felt her bowels fill with ice in dreadful anticipation of what she knew was to come. She had insulted the Huntress, used her blessing in vain, and it couldn’t go unpunished.

More than anything she wanted to clamp shut her eyes, but this was her own doing, the very least she owed now was to witness her work.

She sensed Kassandra recoil at the ungodly sound that emerged from the woods, flinched herself, even though she’d known something like this was inevitable. 

The hind came careering out of the trees, the arrow blazing in her shoulder. The whole shaft was aflame now and the terrified beast, eyes rolling madly, bucked and reared as she tried to escape it, even as her injured leg crumpled beneath her.

Kyra was frozen in place. She knew what needed to be done, but the hind’s mad glare had locked her there as surely as a gorgon’s gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kassandra already in motion, striding forward, powerful and elegant, drawing her bow, releasing an arrow clean into one rolling eye with such force that half the shaft drove into the deer’s brain killing her instantly. 

Even though she knew the hind was dead, Kassandra drew her spear smoothly from her back, dropped to her knees beside it and opened its throat down to the spine in one fluid motion, before snatching the still blazing arrow and yanking it from the muscle, the stench of burning hair singeing her nostrils as she slapped out the flames, scorching her hand.

“I’m sorry friend,” she stroked the deer’s bloodied neck. “I’m so sorry. That was a terrible accident. No one intended that, I swear.”

Kyra was beside her now, her shadow falling over the hind’s face. She looked down at its dulling eyes, the thick blood pooling beneath it, the burned, discoloured area on its shoulder. Feeling Kassandra’s eyes upon her she glanced up, guilt washing over her and flinched at the flicker of disappointment and disgust that she was sure she’d seen.

“Artemis forgive me,” she murmured quietly, dropping to her knees and placing her hands on the deer’s scorched flesh. 

Kassandra got to her feet and took a few steps back, watching as Kyra lowered her head and began to mouth a silent prayer.

She’d barely finished, had just raised her head slightly, her hands still on the carcass, when Phoibe came barreling up. She was all frantic excitement, voice bubbling and eager, Kyra’s bow held reverently in her hands. She was gazing at it, wide eyed and astonished, already mid-sentence as she approached.

“That was incredible!” she seemed oblivious to Kyra’s silent prayers, to Kassandra’s solemn expression, even to the unfortunate deer.

“How do you do that? Is it a Daughters of Artemis thing? Did they teach you? Is it the bow? Do you need a special bow?” She was turning it in her hands, studying it intently. “Or is it the arrows? Because I noticed your arrows have strange heads. Do you need the bow _ and _ the arrows together or can you do it with any...oh!” she breathed, looking up wide eyed.

“You said that you took this from a dead Athenian? Did_ he _ kill the Daughters of Artemis? And then he stole the bow? Did you kill him in revenge and take it back? Did he kill them because he wanted the bow? Would _ he _ have been able to make fire arrows? Can you teach me to do that?”

“Phoibe...Phoibe!..._ Phoibe _!!” Kassandra tried to stem the flow, without success, as Kyra got to her feet with a heavy sigh, wiping her hands on the grass as she did so.

“Can you?” Phoibe persisted, overcome with excitement. “I mean, will you, please? Teach me?”

“No! I will not!” Kyra snapped, her face pale and her lips tight. “This isn’t a game, Phoibe. I should not have done that. I should never have done that! And _ this _ is not a child’s toy!” she snatched the bow from her hands. “I misused this. I misused the sacred flame and I want to hear no more about it. Not a word! I want to be by myself now.”

“Kyra?” Kassandra began softly, holding out a tentative hand.

“By myself, I said!” Kyra shook her off and stalked away into the woods.

“Well!” Phoibe huffed, once she was safely out of earshot. “If she didn’t want to talk about it then she -”

“Enough, Phoibe!” Kassandra growled, looking at the gory ground and treading out a small, smoldering patch of grass. “_ I _don’t want to hear any more about this either.”

“But did you know that she could do that?” Phoibe totally missed the warning signs. “Has she ever -”

“Enough, I said!” Kassandra barked. “Not another word, do as you’re told can’t you?”

“Hey,” Phoibe pouted. “Don’t go taking it out on me, just because your new girlfriend is a failed Daughter of Artemis who couldn’t hit a dead cow with a shovel.”

“That will do!” Kassandra spun on her heel so sharply that Phoibe flinched, startled at the fury in her eyes. “Go back to Selene’s, Phoibe.”

“But…” she gestured feebly towards the bows and quivers some way off, then down at the miserable carcass.

“I said go home! Not another word,” Kassandra glowered at her. “Pick up our things and get back home. I need to sort out this mess,” she saw Phoibe about to open her mouth in protest.

“HOME, I SAID!” she bellowed sharply, startling birds from the trees and sending Phoibe back a reactive step, blinking in surprise. “Not another word. I mean it!” Her expression only served to reinforce her angry words and Phoibe closed her mouth, admitting defeat.

Biting her lip hard and with her eyes swimming, she stormed off and gathered up their belongings and the meagre remnants of their meal before casting one final sullen glance back in Kassandra’s direction. She wasn’t even looking, standing hands braced on hips, gazing down at the cooling hind.

“Gods!” Kassandra heaved a huge, heartfelt sigh and massaged the bridge of her nose hard. However she’d imagined today playing out, she could never have envisioned any of this florid drama.

She’d only ever seen Kyra use the summoning in the heat of combat, to protect life. She’d been reluctant to discuss much about her time with the Daughters of Artemis, but Kassandra was pretty sure all the same that what they had just witnessed had been a serious misuse of something Kyra considered sacred. She’d never even seen her use it to hunt, let alone to show off in the course of a silly target practice.

More than anything Kassandra wanted to run after Kyra, to catch her and talk to her. To ask her what had possessed her to do such a thing. To make sure that she was all right.

Striking the poor hind had been a terrible, unpredictable accident. Kyra had to realize that, surely? Even if she did though, Kassandra knew that she would be blaming herself right now. Telling herself that if she hadn’t summoned the flame in the first place, none of this would have happened.

Still, the hind was dead now, she thought, looking down at its dulling eyes. There was nothing anyone could do to change that. But it would only compound the sacrilege to leave the carcass to waste. She hadn’t anticipated having to tackle anything larger than a rabbit today. She had her spear and a small, general purpose knife tucked into her boot. Neither were ideally suited for what she had in mind. Remembering Phoibe’s blade, still wedged in the tree, she went to retrieve it.

Pulling out the arrows, she tossed them over towards the deer and took hold of the apple. This had all been her stupid idea in the first place. She scowled at it, saw how the cuts in the skin were already browning. 

This whole bloody trip was turning into a disaster, and she couldn’t help but feel that it was all her fault. They’d mishandled the entire thing. This wasn’t something that you could just spring on someone, as though you were presenting them with a kitten. 

What if Phoibe decided that she didn’t want to return to Mykonos with them after this fiasco? What if the whole bloody trip had been for nothing? What if she’d dragged the Adrestia and its crew halfway across the Aegean on a fool’s errand? What if Kyra had left her post for all these weeks, had gambled all her hard work, for nothing?

Kassandra drew back her arm and launched the apple towards a nearby tree with such force that it struck the trunk with a dull, wet sound, smashed into pulpy chunks and fell to the ground. Bracing her hands behind her neck she looked skywards and sighed. Clouds were gathering and the air was becoming thick and humid. Rain was on its way. 

What if she really had messed this up beyond recovery? Phoibe had always been so delighted to see her previously, that the thought that she might not want to accompany her after all had never really entered her mind. 

But when it came down to it, once Kassandra had left Kephallonia, for reasons that must have seemed vague to Phoibe, Selene and the others had become her family. It was they who fed her and clothed her, listened to the rambling tales of her exploits, bandaged her grazes, comforted her when she woke from nightmares. 

What right did Kassandra have to assume that she could swagger in and sweep her away? It had never really occurred to her that Phoibe might decline the opportunity to be by her side, and her throat constricted unexpectedly at the thought of it.

And now she’d yelled at her. After only the other night saying she never got cross with her. She’d sent her home with her tail between her legs. Carrying their belongings. Gods! She gave a huge, weary sigh and rubbed her face, embarrassed by the wetness she felt on her cheeks. Well this was helping no one!

Examining Phoibe’s knife, it also proved to be best suited to skinning and gutting nothing larger than a hare. The hind’s eyes were already dull and sunken, flies beginning to investigate the pool of thickening blood beneath its neck. It felt wrong somehow to even contemplate eating its flesh themselves, but even worse to just leave it to scavengers. She would take it to the Adrestia, they would be grateful for the unexpected bounty.

But first, there was something that she wanted to do. Kassandra was not a religious woman by any stretch of the imagination and she wasn’t even sure if what she was about to do was appropriate, but it felt right somehow. Slipping the knife into her boot and taking her spear in hand she crouched by the carcass and worked swiftly.

By the time she had the deer’s heart wrapped in her handkerchief the air was even heavier and sweat was stinging her eyes and running from the end of her nose. Wiping her hands in the grass rid her of most of the gore, but her nails and knuckles were still lined with blood.

There was a pool nearby where she could wash before beginning to look for Kyra. She would surely have had long enough now to cool down, and was probably in need of comfort.

With the slightly steaming deer heart in hand she set off and quickly discovered that her two tasks were becoming one. In her distracted haste, Kyra had made no attempt to hide her tracks and they were leading right towards the pool that was Kassandra’s destination. Consequently she wasn’t surprised to see Kyra when she finally stepped out of the thick brush and into the cooler air of the clearing.

Kyra was standing with her back towards her and hadn’t heard her approach, clearly too preoccupied with her thoughts to be paying much attention to her surroundings, and Kassandra stopped and watched quietly for a few minutes. 

She was hip deep in the water, her hands slightly raised in front of her. Presumably she’d been bathing because she’d stripped naked and loosened her hair. Whilst aboard the Adrestia she hadn’t concerned herself overly with discretionary personal grooming and her hair had grown enough that wet, unbraided tendrils snaked along her neck, down to her shoulders.

Kassandra was painfully aware of a conflict of emotions. She could feel the sweet pulse of arousal, the rush of blood to her sex, her gathering wetness, but at the same time a voice in her head told her that Kyra could well be praying, that Kassandra’s uninvited presence was inappropriate. She bent and placed the cloth wrapped bundle on a flat rock by the pool’s edge, intending to retreat back amongst the trees and re-approach with a bit more noise to forewarn Kyra of her arrival.

As she stood upright, movement in the water caught her eye. Kyra had turned to look at her. Kassandra shook her head slightly, a wry smile pulling at her lips. Kyra was at least as good a tracker as Kassandra herself. Of course she’d known that she was there. 

Standing, shoulders square, chin raised, her arms loose by her sides, her hair seal slick against her skull, she took Kassandra’s breath away. If someone had told her that this was the nymph of this pool, likely to disappear in an instant, Kassandra would have believed them. But for all the majesty of her body, her face was soft and melancholy. She was wet from bathing, water dripping from her chin, and Kassandra recognised a sadness about her eyes, in the slight droop of her lips that told her she’d been crying, though she seemed calm now.

There was a long, taut silence between them, stretching out tighter and tighter. It could pull them together or snap and fling them apart. Kassandra prayed for the former. Cautious as a hunter she raised her hands a few inches, licked her lips nervously.

“I’m sorry Kyra, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was just coming to wash my hands, but I can come back later if you’d rather be alone?”

“Don’t go Kassandra,” Kyra was already making her way to the edge of the pool. Water ran from her hair, fine tributaries that flowed together down between the valley of her breasts, curling across the planes of her belly and hips to gather, glittering like gemstones in the unclipped curls at her sex. “Please?” she breathed.

Kassandra swallowed hard and did her best to suppress the throb of arousal, to concentrate on the hesitant vulnerability of Kyra’s expression.

“I’m so sorry Kassandra,” her voice was quiet and shaky. “I should never have...I’m so sorry,” she dropped her gaze, breaking the tension between them.

“It’s all right, love,” Kassandra waded out to meet her, the cool water lapping around her knees, soaking her boots. “You don’t have anything to apologize to me for,” she took her hands gently and dipped her head to meet her eyes. “It was an accident. No one could have known that poor beast was there. Everyone makes mistakes, my love. I once shot a goat right next to a drop off and the poor bloody thing had to lie there for ten minutes with a broken leg while I climbed down to finish it.”

“I’m not even really talking about the deer, though that was...I saw the way you looked at me Kassandra,” Kyra shook her head miserably, turning her face to avoid Kassandra’s gaze.

“Oh, Kyra no, I was shocked, surprised is all. I’ve never seen you use that, the flame. Not outside of combat that is. It’s a startling thing to see up close. I never thought I’d see you use it unless someone’s life was in danger. It was just a shock, I swear. I wasn’t judging you.”

“But you had every right to,” Kyra looked up, guilt still written across her features. “I had no business summoning the flame, not like that, not in those circumstances. I knew there’d be a price. But it should have been my price to pay, not that poor doe.”

“It seems to me like you _ are _ paying it,” Kassandra stroked her cheek softly. “You made a mistake. We all make mistakes. Now you’re sorry for it. Surely your goddess will recognise that? She’s stern but she recognises remorse, no?”

“I feel so wretched,” Kyra’s voice was just audible. “I behaved like a petulant child. I summoned flame when I had no need of it. I killed what I had no hunger for. All to try and impress a little girl. I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she bowed her head and stifled a sob against Kassandra’s chest.

“I don’t think it’s such a mystery really,” Kassandra wrapped her in her arms and pulled her close, feeling the cool water seeping into her tunic. “You’re away from the only home you’ve ever known, surrounded by people you barely know. The journey was stressful and we’ve approached this meeting with Phoibe all wrong I think. But it will be all right. I’m going to make it all right. I promise,” she pressed a kiss to the crown of Kyra’s head, resting her chin against her wet hair. 

She stood quietly for a few moments, stroking slowly, rhythmically, up and down Kyra’s back till she felt her breathing become steadier.

“It’s not often I get to act like the grown up in the group, not when you’re present as well,” she said, teasing carefully as she eased back from their embrace so she could check Kyra’s expression. “So it might take me a bit to hit my stride, but I made a start,” she took a step to the side, slipping an arm around Kyra’s waist and holding her close. 

“It was a fine young hind, she had a strong heart,” she indicated the bloody parcel resting on the rock. “I don’t really know about such things, but it seemed like it would make a good offering to Artemis, perhaps?” she ventured a hopeful glance down at Kyra, and saw that she was looking at the package with a softening expression. 

“I didn’t imagine that you’d want to eat any of the flesh yourself, but I thought we could take it over to the Adrestia on our way back? They’ll be grateful for fresh meat and they won’t be particularly concerned with how we came by it. Then I’m going to have a talk with Phoibe,” she felt the shift in posture as Kyra looked up at her. 

“Don’t worry. I’m going to have a talk _ with _ her...not _ at _ her,” she smiled. “We should have told her what we intended right away. I mean, obviously I should have said something in my letter, but I think we’ve established that I fucked that up beyond all redemption. I made most of this mess, I’m going to clean it up. Promise,” she pressed a kiss to Kyra’s temple.

The silence that followed was a good deal less tense and more companionable than the previous one. Kyra turned slightly to wrap her arms about Kassandra’s hips, resting her head against her chest, eyes closed. After a minute or two she gave a sigh and stood upright.

“Thank you Kassandra,” she gave her hand a squeeze. “Thank you for what you did back there. Thank you for this offering. Thank you for not treating me as though I’m the monster I feel like. Would you like to do this with me?” she indicated the heart.

Kassandra gave it a moment’s consideration. She’d never previously taken part in Kyra’s religious observances, it would be meaningless to start now surely.

“If it’s all the same with you, I don’t think I will. I’ll wash off this blood while you do that,” the water from Kyra’s body had rinsed away most of it, but it sounded like a reasonable excuse. Kyra had clearly anticipated nothing else, she was already wading out of the water to gather kindling for a fire and retrieve the small flint box she carried when out hunting.

Kassandra washed her hands and forearms, cleaning carefully beneath her nails with the point of her knife as she caught the scent of burning wood. Kyra was kneeling back on her heels, adding slightly larger sticks to the fire, nursing it to life as Kassandra waded out of the pool, water rushing from her boots. It had been an error of judgement splashing in with them on, she reflected ruefully, she hated wet boots. 

Pulling them off, with no little difficulty, she balanced them upside down against a rock, to drain as well as possible, and removed her belt and weapons. Her tunic could stay on, she decided. Prising apart the deer’s rib cage and delving for its heart had worked up a sweat and the lowering clouds had only added to it. A quick full body rinse in the dim pool would be in everyone’s best interests.

When she emerged, feeling cooler and cleaner, Kyra was kneeling up, haloed by firelight, Kassandra could hear the crackle of wood and smell the savory scent of roasting meat. A lean, young heart like that would be a delicacy, but she knew that they would taste none of it. Kyra would intend it solely for her patron.

Kassandra took a seat on a large rock, with her back to Kyra. She looked tremendously distracting, naked and bathed in warm firelight and Kassandra could feel an inappropriate wave of desire flowing through her belly, heating her chest and thighs, drying her mouth and wetting her palms as though she hadn’t just bathed in cool water. Best to concentrate on the deep green pool before her, she decided, wringing water out of the handkerchief she'd washed.

The meat was burning now, the smell of charred muscle tickling Kassandra’s nostrils. The greasy smoke would be weaving skywards, knitting together with the fragrant wood smoke, carrying the weight of Kyra’s prayers upwards, begging for the virgin goddess’ attention.

Was she out there somewhere, even now? Stern and beautiful, weighing Kyra’s remorse against the weight of her sin? Would she find it acceptable, or wanting? Would she be weighing this one moment’s loss of control against all her acts of bravery and generosity? 

And who were the damn gods to judge anyway? If half the tales people told of them were true, they didn’t stand very close scrutiny themselves. Even Artemis, who Kassandra considered among the less reprehensible of them, had watched a man torn to pieces by his hounds for merely seeing her bathing. Kyra’s moment of petulance seemed minor compared to that, she thought. Still, it generally seemed to be one rule for the gods, and a completely different one for humanity.

Kyra’s voice hissing her name, distracted her from any further irreverent thoughts. Turning to see what she wanted, Kassandra found herself almost nose to nose with a deer. Not five feet away from her was another doe. But not just any doe.

Kassandra’s breath caught in her chest. This animal was huge for a doe, thick necked and heavily muscled. But that wasn’t what had astonished her. The deer’s coat was a pure, clean white, apart from a deep russet brown patch on her shoulder, just where Kyra’s errant arrow had struck the young hind. Such beasts rarely survived long in the wild, their distinctive coats making them easy targets for predators of all species. How this one had lived to maturity and beyond, she couldn’t imagine.

Kassandra and the doe gazed silently at one another for a moment. Kassandra was by far the more startled of the two. Solemnly blinking her huge limpid eyes, the deer flicked her ears and took a few paces down to the water’s edge, lowering her elegant head and drinking deeply. Kassandra turned, slowly and cautiously, just enough to look at Kyra out of the corner of her eye.

She was standing, transfixed, gazing at the animal, a delighted smile creeping across her face, her eyes wide and bright. Kassandra glanced back at the doe. She’d quenched her thirst and now raised her head to look directly at Kyra. Woman and beast, eyes locked.

All Kassandra saw was a foolhardy animal, thirsty enough to ignore the smell of burning flesh and the presence of two hunters. Kyra however, clearly saw more. Her expression was all reverent delight as the creature shook its head, sending water droplets flying in a graceful, glittering arc, before turning, completely unhurried, and sauntering back into the trees.

Kassandra shook her head bemused. The damn animal was lucky to have reached the size it had, distinctive and bold as it was. If it wanted to get much older it was going to have to become considerably more wary.

“Did you see her?” Kyra was clearly of a different mind. She gazed at Kassandra beatifically, her face bright with an endearingly youthful grin.

“I saw a foolhardy, thirsty deer,” Kassandra replied wryly, getting to her feet and watching fondly as Kyra almost skipped over to her, back-lit by the dying fire. “I suspect that you saw something more significant, no?”

“That’s all right, Kassandra,” Kyra was near enough now for her to rest a hand against her chest, flat on her sternum, pressing the damp fabric of her tunic against her skin. “It wasn’t a sign for you, my love.”

She was close enough for Kassandra to smell wood smoke in her drying hair. Close enough for her to feel the warmth of her breath against her neck. Close enough for her to reach out and take her in her arms, to kiss those smiling lips and trace the curve of her lovely breasts with fingers already trembling in hopeful anticipation.

Kassandra was just about to act on her desire, had even raised her hands to catch Kyra about the hips and pull her in close, when she laughed brightly and turned away towards the water’s edge, ducking elegantly to scoop up a couple of pebbles.

“You know, you’re right Kassandra,” she drew back her arm and launched the first stone, sending it skipping smoothly across the surface of the pool.

Kassandra watched fascinated, observing with hungry interest how the action made her breasts bounce, the lean muscles of her hips and thighs tense and relax as she moved. Her tongue darted out unconsciously and licked her dry lips as she watched Kyra toss the remaining pebble from hand to hand.

“About what, love?” she managed at last, voice husky.

“We did mishandle this trip,” Kyra glanced over her shoulder towards her, a ghost of a frown about her brows. “Especially Phoibe. Expecting her to bond with me right away. She’s angry and resentful because she thinks this is like all your other visits. That she has a limited amount of time with you and I’m here stealing it. We should have asked her right away, if she wanted to return to Mykonos with us. Then she could have relaxed and we could have begun to get to know each other.”

Kassandra opened her mouth, ready to apologise once again for her inept letter, her clumsy handling of the situation. It was becoming second nature by now.

“Don’t!” Kyra was smiling as she held up a silencing finger. “Don’t say sorry again, Kassandra. This wasn’t all your fault, you know,” she turned back to the water and launched the second stone with a smooth, easy motion, sending it skipping a half dozen times before it disappeared into the fading light.

“I’m at least partly to blame,” she brushed her hands on her thighs. “I didn’t know your family here of course, but I’m supposed to know _ people _. That’s my job Kassandra. I should have been able to see this coming.”

She sauntered over to the smooth boulder where she’d placed her discarded clothing and her bow, and retrieved her tunic. Holding it loosely at her waist she turned towards Kassandra. She was standing, dark eyed, her pulse and breathing quickening as she looked at Kyra, smiling at her returning composure.

“I realise now,” Kyra looked down at the tunic in her hands, toying with the fabric as she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t like...not having things under control...not _ being _ in control,” she looked up at Kassandra, brows creased as she struggled to explain. “I don’t mean that I need to...be in charge all the time. I don’t need to always get what I want. Not outside my office anyway,” she gave a quick half smile and took a few steps closer, bringing herself back within arm's reach.

“I mean that…” she continued after a thoughtful pause. “I feel more relaxed, more in control if I’m prepared, if I know what to expect. I tried to prepare for this,” she laughed and shook her head. “My silly notes. That was never going to work, not really. I just had your impressions of people. When I got here, everyone was so different. Not in a bad way!” she clarified hastily. 

“It’s just that things are so different here. Everything is so...informal. Everyone is so casual about...well, about so many things. In a way it reminds me of how things were before I became Archon, the atmosphere you saw when you wandered into our hideout that night? I’d forgotten how that feels. I haven’t dared let myself feel like that for so long now, it seems. I’ve felt out of my depth here,” she tilted her head, looked deep into Kassandra’s eyes, seeking confirmation that she was making herself understood. “Nothing has been under my control and it’s been...unnerving.”

“I understand,” Kassandra nodded. “At least, I think I do. I felt a bit the same way when I first began to stay at the villa with you. Everyone had their role to play. Their title. Their place in the structure. It all seemed ridiculously stiff and formal to me. I suppose I must have seemed like some great shaved bear, lumbering around the place, taking up too much space, talking too loudly, eating in the wrong places, not wearing enough clothes half the time,” she laughed and shook her head, seeing Kyra’s growing smile. “I’m managing to get my head around most things at last...well sort of...I suspect Aegeus, and possibly Savina too, still think I’m a shaved bear.”

Kyra laughed and cocked her head playfully. “My highly efficient household has learned to accommodate your presence and your frequently irregular behaviour. And Savina absolutely does not consider you a shaved bear...Aegeus, on the other hand,” she gave a quick moue of consideration.

Kassandra took a deep breath and reached out for the tunic that Kyra still held, almost forgotten, absently rolling the fabric between her fingers.

“You do realise,” she began with a hint of a roguish smile, easing the tunic from her grasp. “That there is one thing that you have had entirely within your control all this time? While we were aboard the Adrestia. As we slogged along the diolkos. From the moment we set foot on the dockside here?”

“Really?” Kyra arched one raven wing brow. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

“Me,” Kassandra replied huskily, taking a step back and dropping Kyra’s tunic onto a flat rock.

“Me, Kyra!” she flung out her arms, playfully dramatic, grinning widely. “You always have me under your control.”

“Is that so? When half the time I can’t even get you to put on clothes before you go wandering around the villa?” she folded her arms, framing her breasts, well aware of the effect this would have on Kassandra. She wasn’t wrong.

Licking her lips, she gave a wolfish grin, her sharp white teeth glinting even in the lowering light.

“You have bewitched me, Kyra!” she made the theatrical announcement to the clearing at large, turning on her heel in a complete circle, sending startled birds chattering through the leaves. She flung her arms wide again, grinning hungrily.

“Just a word from you,” she advanced towards her.

“Just a gesture. Just a glance,” she stopped right up against her, gazing down, seeing Kyra’s eyes darkening to match her own. “And I am completely under your spell...Archon.”

She bowed her head and growled the final word low into Kyra’s ear, hoping that she’d take the bait and respond to what Kassandra was sure they both needed right now.

“Only say the word,” she whispered,”and I will do whatever you desire.”

Kyra stayed exactly where she was, not moving a muscle. Emboldened, Kassandra ran her tongue along her throat, drawing it upwards slowly, stopping at her ear.

“Just say the word... Archon,” she breathed.

There was a brief pause before Kyra took a deep breath in through her nose, followed by a half step back.

“You are certainly a very demanding and, I must say, a rather impudent Misthios,” she pursed her lips.

“Am I?” Kassandra tilted her head, smiling foxily. “Have I displeased the Archon? Perhaps I need to be reminded of my place?”

“You certainly need something to occupy that impertinent tongue of yours. At the moment you have far too much to say for yourself.”

“Is that a fact?” Kassandra smirked.

“There you go again!” Kyra squared her shoulders and adopted a stern tone. “Verging on the downright rude,” she frowned, bracing her hands on her hips. “I think I’d prefer you on your knees.”

“On my knees, is it?” Kassandra tested playfully.

“On your knees, Misthios!” Kyra barked sharply, working to swallow a smile as Kassandra dropped instantly, somehow still managing to trace her nose along Kyra’s torso as she went.

Kyra smelt of cool water, spicy wood smoke and sex, and Kassandra’s mouth watered. They hadn’t even kissed yet and she could already feel her cunt clenching, the slow warm seep of arousal soaking her underwear. She was sure that if she lowered her gaze to look, she would see wetness matting the waves of soft hair covering Kyra’s sex, might even see it glistening on her inner thighs.

She resisted, raised her eyes instead, and looked up past the firm curves of Kyra's breasts, the tightening flesh of her dark nipples. Registering the rapid rise and fall of her chest, she met her gaze, looked deep into her rich brown eyes, warm and hungry now.

“Well you have me here,” she smirked, biting her lower lip provocatively, and reached out, running her short, blunt nails up the backs of Kyra’s thighs, feeling her shiver. “The view is glorious, but what did you have in mind?”

“You are being deliberately provoking, Misthios,” Kyra took a full step backward. “It’s almost as if you _ want _ me to teach you a little discipline, to remind you of who’s in charge here.”

Kassandra’s stomach and cunt both clenched deliciously. She did indeed! She hadn’t really expected Kyra to respond quite so enthusiastically, at such short notice, out in the open like this, but by the gods, it was making Kassandra’s head swim.

“I think I must,” she made to lean forward, to nose against Kyra’s belly, fill her lungs with the heady scent of her. “I think I do need you to remind me who’s in charge here, Archon,” she growled.

“Still wagging that impudent tongue, Misthios,” Kyra snapped. “I can see that I need to find something to keep it occupied,” she raised her right foot and planted it firmly against Kassandra’s chest.

Anticipating the shove that followed, Kassandra relaxed enough to allow herself to be pushed flat on her back, the damp cloth of her tunic chilly against her skin.

“Not another word, Misthios, unless I give you permission,” Kyra was standing astride her hips now, scowling down darkly.

Kassandra sucked in a deep, greedy breath, drank in the heady scent of Kyra’s arousal and allowed her eyes to roam up the full length of her lean, muscular legs to the shadowed juncture of her thighs. The sky was almost dark now, clouds had gathered and the only illumination was provided by the dying embers of the fire and the occasional glint of moonlight. 

Whether she could really see the glistening moisture filming Kyra’s inner thighs, or whether it was her fevered imagination conjuring the image for her, Kassandra wasn’t sure. But she was sure of one thing. She was desperate for her. How long had it been since she’d last had Kyra filling her mouth, enveloping her eager fingers? She’d forgotten. Too long though. Far too long.

“Did I give you permission to touch yourself?!” Kyra’s indignant bark shocked Kassandra back to herself. She hadn’t even realised that she was doing it until Kyra’s toes hooked under her wrist and yanked her hand away from her sex.

“I...I’m sorry,” she wasn’t teasing now, aware only of her gnawing need, worried that she might have carelessly strayed outside the boundaries of their game. “I didn’t know I was -”

“Enough!” I didn’t give you permission to speak either, did I?” Kyra cocked her head. “Arms by your sides...Misthios?” there was a careful question concealed in the final word, seeking confirmation of Kassandra’s willingness to continue.

“Yes, Archon,” she whispered, barely audible, obediently placing her arms out by her sides.

“Speaking without permission, again,” Kyra was reassured. “Clearly you are unable to follow even basic instructions today. It seems like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands and remove temptation entirely.”

Fluid and elegant, she sank to her knees, straddling Kassandra’s chest, pinning her upper arms to the ground with her knees. Kassandra could feel her blood singing in her ears, bit her lower lip hard to prevent the escape of the needy groan that was bubbling in her throat.

“If you can’t keep that tongue of yours still,” Kyra ran a fingertip across the curves of Kassandra’s lips, pulling it away with a laugh as she opened her mouth to try and catch it. “Then,” Kyra caressed her cheek, the sharp angle of her jaw, smiling as Kassandra leaned into the touch. “Then I shall have to put it to another use, no?”

Kassandra nodded eagerly, eyes wide and dark, licking her lips as Kyra slowly, temptingly, shifted herself into position.

  
  



	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe smashes two and two together and makes a crudely formed twenty two.

“When have I ever been cross with you Phoibe? How about right FUCKING NOW!!” Phoibe turned on her heel and bellowed back through the trees.

Part of her was suddenly worried that Kassandra might have heard. But another part wanted to hear her bellowing back “language, Phoibe” as she came swaggering out of the trees to chastise her.The dense vegetation, however, swallowed her petulant fury. She listened hard but there was no response beyond the muffled scrabbling of startled small wildlife.

“Let’s go hunting, she said. It’ll be fun, she said!” she muttered under her breath, scuffing her feet in the short grass.

Why was Kassandra being such an ass? This was all Kyra’s fault somehow, surely? Kassandra should never have brought her along. Why had she? Phoibe thought that she had a pretty good idea why Kassandra generally devoted her attentions towards a particular woman in this way. But to travel halfway across the Aegean in the cramped confines of a single cabin? Sex couldn’t possibly be  _ that _ much fun! Could it?

Phoibe turned back in the direction of Sami, not relishing the prospect of the awkward questions that would greet her. And three quivers was too much for her to carry, along with her own bow, Kassandra’s cumbersome weapon and the cloth wrapped scraps from their picnic, she decided grumpily.

She rearranged her burden on her shoulders and opened the cloth. There was one depressingly hard little pear and a small lump of cheese that wasn’t much softer itself, after the best part of a day being tossed around in the pack.

Phoibe took them out, and muttering under her breath, haphazardly folded the cloth and shoved it in her pocket. That helped a bit. She eyed the cheese suspiciously. Under normal circumstances she’d eat pretty much anything, but this was hard, sweaty and distinctly unappealing. She tossed it into the bushes. Whatever was living there could take or leave the unexpected windfall.

Sliding an arrow from Kassandra’s quiver she whipped it angrily at the scrubby bushes, sending a few seed heads flying, and carried on. With the pear in her other hand she gnawed optimistically, but with only partial success. After a little while she gave up, and sent it arcing into the shrubs to join the cheese. 

If she was perfectly honest with herself she wasn’t really hungry for once. Her stomach felt queasy, almost as if she’d eaten something bad, or how she imagined that must feel. She had the constitution of a goat usually, but right now she definitely had a tummy ache.

That was Kassandra’s fault, she decided, swinging her wrist deftly. The arrow shaft hissed through the air, slashing at the clumps of tall grass. She had never brought any women back to Kephallonia before. Well that wasn’t strictly correct, she supposed. There was Odessa, and then Thyia of course. Phoibe knew that Kassandra had had  _ something _ going on there at some point. But that wasn’t like actually, seriously, bringing someone home to meet Selene. They were part of the crew, and they’d always remained on the ship.

Though now she thought about it, Phoibe was sure that she wouldn’t have minded Kassandra bringing either of them back to Selene’s. They were different. Phoibe had always had fun with them whenever she’d spent time aboard ship, listening to tales of their adventures, learning new sea shanties. Odessa had taught her how to play knuckle bones for money. And lived to regret it.

Phoibe more or less understood what Kassandra got up to with the women she became involved with. Not all the specific physical particulars of course, but Clio had given her a rough outline of the general proceedings. She’d also explained that Kassandra had a...what was it that she’d said? That Kassandra had a...Heraklean sexual appetite. Phoibe knew full well that Kassandra was at least as strong and heroic as Herakles, but quite what that meant in  _ this _ regard she hadn’t been sure at the time.

When she’d probed for a clear definition, Iva had helpfully supplied that it meant Kassandra liked sex even more than she liked honeycakes. That sort of made sense, Phoibe supposed. Though if Iva had been aware that Phoibe had once witnessed Kassandra cram three whole honeycakes into her mouth at once, to free up her hands to fasten her boot, she might have chosen a different example.

Even so, Phoibe thought, as she bent and plucked a woody sprig of thyme and began to chew it, there were plenty of women on Kephallonia, and many of them seemed only too happy to consider a dalliance with a handsome, near legendary hero, and no wonder. As well as being strong, brave, and good looking, she had a charming way with the ladies, and varied tastes.

And if all else failed Phoibe knew full well that Kassandra had found her way into Clio’s bed on occasions in the past, even though the subject had never been openly acknowledged in Phoibe’s presence. She was absolutely sure that she’d somehow managed to squeeze herself in there after the arrival of Iva too, though it hadn’t happened for quite some time now. 

Understandably so, Phoibe supposed, slipping the arrow back into the quiver. Kassandra was a lot of misthios to cram into bed with two other women, it presumably got cramped. She shucked off the bundle of quivers and bows and flopped down, cross legged on the grass.

The point was though, she spat out a particularly woody bit of stem, if Kassandra was incapable of reining in her appetite for the length of a stay on Kephallonia, there were any number of other options. There was absolutely no need for her to be importing girlfriends from halfway across the Aegean.

And if she insisted on it, could she not at least find one who was a bit more...she rummaged through her vocabulary for something appropriate. More  _ fun _ ? Despite Kassandra’s assertions, Kyra hadn’t impressed Phoibe with her sense of playfulness so far.

There was something reserved about her. Reserved and a little stiff. Something odd. In fact, there was something odd about the whole thing. About her just turning up without Kassandra having ever mentioned her. And though it had undoubtedly been satisfying to hear her haul Markos over the coals, wasn’t it a bit odd the way she’d gone about it? Sneaking into his old shed. Not telling Kassandra what she was going to do? 

And getting money out of him! Not just a handful of drachmae for breakfast either, but a fat pouch of coin. How in Hades  _ had _ she done that? If only Kassandra had let her eavesdrop for just a little longer.

But if you wanted to talk about  _ odd _ , what about that flaming arrow!

Phoibe flopped onto her back and stared up at the darkening sky. What in Hades was all that about? How would you even go about doing something like that? What had she used to ignite it? Her eyes? Her breath? Her mind? 

Was it something to do with the bow? But Phoibe had examined that carefully as she’d carried it over to her. It was a lovely weapon. Elegant, beautifully crafted, but just a bow at the end of the day. It hadn’t felt magical in any way.

Though what would magic feel like? Would you even be  _ able _ to feel it? In your body? In your mind? Like warmth, or tingling? Or did you have to be magical yourself to even sense it? Phoibe tossed aside the soggy remnants of the thyme. Was it a  _ spell  _ that Kyra had used? Was Kyra some sort of enchantress?

Hanging around the docks as she did, Phoibe had heard tales of the mysterious Daughters of Artemis. She’d heard sailors speak in hushed tones, calling them witches. Discussing it later with Selene, she’d informed Phoibe that people, men in particular, often called women witches when they really wanted to call them something else. 

She wasn’t sure what she’d meant by that, but thinking back to all the fisherman’s tales that she’d heard, Phoibe had decided that if you looked at it from the other side, from the Daughters of Artemis side, then they were really just groups of women who had withdrawn from society, trained to become highly skilled hunters, worshiped Artemis, respected the land and wanted to protect their homes from intruders.

That didn’t sound so bad, so terrifying. Unless you went accidentally blundering into one of their camps of course. Then, she imagined, all bets were off. Clio had dryly speculated that a good number of the men who had “blundered” into their hunting grounds might well have done so not at all accidentally, drawn by the lurid tales of naked, all women rituals beneath the gaze of the moon.

If that was the case then Phoibe considered that they’d probably been asking for a bear mauling or an arrow between the eyes. But why the great mystery? Why all the secrecy? After all, two women couldn’t have a baby together so how did the Daughters go about keeping their numbers up? How did they attract new members, if everyone was forbidden to speak about them, or approach their camps?

She couldn’t ask Kyra after this latest performance. But why had she even brought up the subject in the first place, if it was forbidden to talk about it? And if it was all some deep, dark secret, then why had she ignited a bloody arrow in full view of Kassandra and Phoibe?

Why do something amazing like that and then flounce off in a strop when people  _ were _ amazed? She’d said that she shouldn’t have done it. Did she mean that she shouldn’t have done it in front of witnesses? Phoibe chewed her thumbnail pensively. Was she  _ really _ some sort of sorceress? Were all those sailors right about the Daughters of Artemis after all?

Clio and the others had scoffed at the idea when Phoibe had initially spoken about it, but then they dismissed Kassandra’s more elaborate exploits too, assuming she invented them for Phoibe’s entertainment. But Phoibe knew better. She remembered every word of every tale that Kassandra had shared while lying in her bed, the lamplight flickering low, as she made shadow puppets on the ceiling.

She  _ had _ killed a man with the head of a bull, a woman with writhing serpents for hair, a giant with one rolling eye. And regardless of what bloody Markos said about her, she  _ was _ clever. She’d bested a Sphinx after all. Kassandra had told everyone that the great honey-hued paw she’d given to Phoibe had come from a huge lion. But Phoibe knew better. 

Kassandra was as strong and brave as Herakles and as clever and loyal as Odysseus. She deserved someone equally magnificent. A queen or an Amazon, not some ex-Daughter of Artemis, even a really pretty one who could set arrows on fire with her mind.

Actually, had Kassandra not known she could do that?! Phoibe sat up sharply. Was _ that _ it? Kassandra had seemed equally astonished when the arrow had burst into flame. In fact it had been Kassandra’s stunned expression that had drawn Phoibe’s attention in the first place.

Kassandra hadn’t known that Kyra could do that, Phoibe decided. Hadn’t known that she possessed some kind of magical ability. Kassandra wasn’t even particularly religious. How was she going to react to discovering that her new girlfriend could set things on fire with, well, with something other than a flint that was for sure!

It would be interesting to find out, she decided. Perhaps the awkward bed sharing situation was about to be solved by Kyra being sent back to take up residence on the Adrestia.

Unable to prevent a satisfied smirk, Phoibe scrabbled to her feet and gathered up the bows and quivers. Slinging them over her shoulders she set off back in the direction of the unfortunate doe. Kassandra wouldn’t be at all thrilled about  _ that  _ either, Phoibe thought. She despised cruelty. Kyra was as good as back in the cabin.

She completed the return journey a good deal more quickly than the grumpy outbound trek. The deer had been moved into the shade and covered with loose branches. Selene did not take kindly to anything larger than a hare being dressed on the premises, so when Kassandra had mentioned “sorting out the mess” Phoibe had assumed that she intended to gut it here before returning.

She was therefore unsurprised to find the hind’s rib-cage open, though she was a little puzzled to see that only the heart had been removed. It was something of a delicacy, Phoibe was fond of it herself, but so was the liver and that still lay there. Why had Kassandra taken just the heart? And where had she taken it? 

Well, she was assuming that it was Kassandra. What if it was Kyra who had crept back for it as an ingredient in some weird Daughters of Artemis rite? But to what end, though? Did she have to make some compensatory offering after she’d summoned that flame? Or was it by way of penance? She  _ had _ struck the deer by accident, Phoibe had to concede that, but then she’d frozen like a witless beginner and Kassandra had to stride forward and take control. 

She got to her feet, wiping her hands on the skirt of her tunic and looked about her. Fortunately, neither one of them had given much thought to disguising their tracks, she observed, rolling her eyes, and she could see right where they were heading.

Phoibe had never hunted a deer in earnest. She knew that she was a long way from having the strength to bring one down humanely, or to deal with the carcass having done so. She had rather hoped that this visit might be the one when Kassandra took her out to hunt her first. Though she had to confess that none of her daydreams had revolved around setting one on fire.

What she  _ had _ done on many occasions, however, was to stalk one. Shadowing low and cat footed, seeing how long she could follow without being detected, before trying to move into a suitable killing position. Her stalking endeavours had taught her many things. The most relevant of them right now was the locations of their favourite watering holes. Kassandra and Kyra were heading right towards one.

Phoibe followed their embarrassingly obvious tracks for a while until she reached a low, narrow, barely visible gap in the thick brush. Unless you knew what you were looking for, you’d be unlikely to realise its significance. 

Placing the bows and quivers out of sight behind a rotted tree stump, Phoibe ducked down and squeezed through. She’d made this little track herself only recently, expanding on a rabbit run that she’d spotted. Keeping awkwardly low she crept along for twenty feet or so, until she reached a steep rocky incline. A few minutes of concentration and careful climbing and she got to a secluded but slightly precarious overhang above the pool.

She’d been hoping to show this to Kassandra. There was no way she’d been shouldering her muscular adult frame through those bushes without leaving an obvious path. So unless she’d discovered this route as a child and then abandoned it for some reason, Phoibe would be revealing something new to  _ her _ for a change.

It was awkward to get into a safe and comfortable position on the rocky ledge, and Phoibe had to confess it would be even more awkward with Kassandra’s bulk beside her. Once settled though she could look out over the pool where much of the nearby game came to slake its thirst. More accurately she could look out over half of the pool, but it was the half with an accessible water’s edge, so that seemed sufficient.

Just as importantly, once settled, you were pretty much out of sight of any creature down in the clearing. Phoibe had checked this by hooking a cloak onto a branch one day and clambering back down to see for herself. If you knew that someone was there, and knew where to look, she supposed you would be able to make out movement. But she wasn’t intending to move and she didn’t expect Kassandra or Kyra to be looking out for her.

There’d be no thirsty wildlife today, she thought to herself as she took up position. It appeared that she was wrong though. The flash of white haunches against the dark trunks caught her eye as a huge deer sauntered away between the trees. A white deer? How on earth had a white deer managed to make it to that size? And why had she never caught sight of it before now?

Movement in her peripheral vision made her turn her head and her first instinct was to roll her eyes at the sight of a naked Kyra. Was it going to turn out to just be some sex business after all, she sighed? Was Kyra going to use her obvious physical charms to make Kassandra forget that earlier fiasco? In all honesty, knowing Kassandra, there was a very good chance that it would work. But if that was the case then where  _ was _ Kassandra? Phoibe’s eyes darted about the half of the clearing that she could see.

Before she’d begun to weigh up the idea of shifting for a wider view, at the risk of attracting attention, Kyra began to move. She was saying something, but to Phoibe’s frustration she couldn’t quite make out the words from up here, just the low murmur of her voice. The response she received was equally unintelligible but the voice was unmistakably Kassandra’s. 

As Kyra almost skipped over to her, clearly smiling delightedly, Phoibe took the opportunity to wriggle a couple of feet to her left for a better view. There was Kassandra! To her astonishment she was fully clothed. Her tunic was wet and clinging to her though. She’d presumably been bathing, and now she came to really look at her, Phoibe could see that Kyra’s hair was wet and loose. 

She was naked because she’d been bathing too, Phoibe nodded to herself. Kassandra had presumably washed because she’d been elbow deep in a deer’s viscera, but why had Kyra felt the need to bath? Some ritual reason? Perhaps this wasn’t some sex nonsense after all then. Though if Kyra was going to carry on parading around like that...Kassandra wasn’t one to turn up her nose at an opportunity, after all. And Kyra was definitely  _ very _ attractive Phoibe had to concede, giving her a long, appraising look.

If only she could make out what they were saying, she frowned, as a scent the wrong side of savory reached her. Meat roasted for too long, charring now. That explained the fire Phoibe decided. She’d noticed but paid it no mind, assuming that it was merely for warmth.

It made far more sense that it was for a burnt offering though, surely? The heart of a young doe would make an appropriate offering to Artemis, no? Or would it? She frowned deeply, racking her brain for what she knew of the hunter goddess. 

Aphrodite was held in higher esteem at home, but she seemed to recall that Artemis’ chariot was pulled by hinds wasn’t it? Would that make them sacred to her? The poor deer was dead though, it wasn’t coming back from Kassandra’s breathtakingly efficient dispatch. Given the unfortunate circumstances of its demise, it would be absolutely necessary to share with the goddess, she imagined.

Though it didn’t explain the lack of clothing. Phoibe had accompanied Selene and the others many times when they went to make their periodic offerings to Aphrodite, and they’d never involved nudity. Not that she’d been privy to at any rate. When you thought about it, that would be far further up Aphrodite’s street than that of the rather staid Artemis. And if anyone would be willing to perform an offering naked, then it would probably be Clio.

Not a routine offering then, she considered, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. Something a bit more...specialized? Something a bit more mysterious...a bit more...Daughters of Artemis-y perhaps? More than just an apology for a clumsy misfire.

“ME, KYRA!” Kassandra announced at such theatrical volume that Phoibe was jolted out of her deep speculation. For one terrifying, vertiginous moment she thought that she was going to topple off the ledge, headfirst into the pool.

Bloody Hades, she gasped, inching back from the edge and catching her breath. She’d thought that Kassandra was angry earlier. An unexpected dive into the pool would really have set her off!

“You have bewitched me, Kyra!” she was still declaiming, arms spread dramatically.

Wait! What? Phoibe’s ears pricked up. Gods no, surely not. Not Kassandra of all people, she rocked back on her heels, scarcely able to believe what she’d heard. But, no, she’d definitely said it, and with enough enthusiasm that the final word had echoed around the clearing. 

Phoibe had been speculating about just this, but deep in her heart she hadn’t truly thought it possible. Kyra possessing enough magic to set an arrow on fire was one thing. One amazing thing to see up close admittedly, but almost a sleight of hand trick compared to controlling another person. And not just any person, but Kassandra.

And Kassandra was still going on, she realised. A little quieter now, but not by much, and certainly sounding no less enthusiastic.

“..a word from you. Just a gesture, just a glance. And I am completely under your spell.”

No, no, no, Phoibe shook her head, horrified. 

Kassandra’s incredible exploits, her remarkable strength and stamina, her skill with weapons, the way she healed more quickly and cleanly than any mortal had a right to do, Phoibe hadn’t just heard of these things, she’d seen them with her own eyes. 

She still remembered the day she’d stood and watched, open mouthed, breath frozen in her lungs as Kassandra had dived from the highest point of the statue of Zeus, as confidently and elegantly as if it was the depths of the bay that awaited her rather than the unyielding ground. 

She’d seemed to almost hover in the shimmering air, arms outstretched as if daring the breeze  _ not _ to cushion her fall. In fact it seemed inaccurate to call it a fall. She had been in control from the instant her feet left the tip of the thunderbolt to the moment she reached the ground, curling and rolling before bouncing to her feet, beaming triumphantly. 

The same could definitely not be said for the foolish braggart who tried to replicate the feat a couple of days later. He’d hit the ground like an over-ripe melon thrown from a roof. The terrible stains had stayed there for days marking his ridiculous, unnecessary sacrifice.

It was Kassandra’s soft landing from that impossible height, followed by her shameless delight in her inexplicable skill that had convinced Phoibe that her long held suspicions were correct. Kassandra  _ was _ part god. She’d dismissed the suggestion with a scoffing laugh the first couple of times she’d asked, but had become irritated after a while, so Phoibe had stopped probing. But Kassandra had found her mother and brother hadn’t she, not her  _ father _ . You couldn’t come home with Zeus after all.

If Phoibe had spent all this time sitting down to eat with a demigod, sharing her bed with the child of a deity, then sorceresses could certainly exist. They could control wild animals, turn men into literal beasts, summon monsters, all of it. They could enchant people to fall in love with them. It was all possible.

But it scarcely seemed possible that Kassandra would fall prey to it, though perhaps prey wasn’t even the right word. She didn’t sound in the least bit disturbed or unwilling. Her tone had been far from rebellious. It didn’t seem like she wanted to fight it at all, in fact she’d sounded downright delighted at the prospect.

Phoibe continued watching with wide, horrified eyes and bated breath as Kassandra strode over to Kyra and bent her head to her shoulder, meek as a lamb.

No, this couldn’t be right. Kassandra would never allow herself to be controlled like this. Not swaggering, shark killing, bear wrestling Kassandra, the woman who had beheaded a gorgon. She would never allow herself to be enslaved.

“On your knees!” it was Kyra’s voice now that echoed around the clearing.

Phoibe sneered to herself. She’d gone too far now, there was no way...no...no! She gaped as Kassandra instantly dropped to her knees at the command.

Get up, Phoibe mouthed silently. Get  _ up _ , Kassandra! 

She’d only ever seen her kneel to fasten someone’s sandals, and then only on one knee. If she’d been asked to imagine Kassandra the mighty monster slayer, dropping to her knees like an obedient dog, Phoibe would have been unable.

She could feel her eyes stinging with unshed tears. This wasn’t right. She was the daughter of Zeus. Kassandra of Sparta should kneel to no one.

Phoibe had thought it impossible that this could become any more humiliating, but gods, she’d been so wrong. Kyra planted her foot square in the centre of Kassandra’s chest and kicked her onto her back.

Phoibe almost called out, stopping herself just in time, biting her lips hard to imprison her cry of protest. It had to be some powerful kind of spell. Perhaps something to do with the ritual that Kyra had just performed. 

Kassandra was so determined and headstrong, any magic would surely require regular replenishing to keep her controlled. Odysseus had managed to outwit Circe, she was a great sorceress and he was only a mortal. Kassandra was a demigod, so Kyra must be a much more powerful enchantress than Phoibe had imagined.

That was the only explanation, she thought, her vision swimming as she began to cry. It had to be sorcery. Kyra was lithe and athletic certainly. No doubt it was one of the things that had initially lured in Kassandra. But she was half Kassandra’s size, built more for speed and agility. There was no way she had the strength to overpower her like this.

Phoibe could barely see now. She scrubbed roughly at her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic, scarcely able to make out Kyra seeming to kick Kassandra’s arms out to her sides. If only she hadn’t needed to abandon the bows and quivers in order to get through her constricting little pathway. She would have been able to at least fire a warning arrow. Something to distract Kyra and give Kassandra the chance to come back to her senses, to call a halt to this humiliation.

Blinking hard, she watched aghast as Kyra sank to her knees, dangerously elegant, straddling Kassandra’s chest, pinning her arms to the ground whilst she whispered Zeus knew what to her.

Kassandra could still easily push her off, Phoibe knew that. If only she was in her right mind. She outweighed Kyra by some way. A thrust of her hips, a roll of her powerful shoulders, would be enough to unseat her, for Kyra to find herself the one pinned to the ground.

She so easily  _ could _ . But Phoibe knew that she wasn’t going to. She could feel it in her queasy stomach, in her tightening chest. Scrabbling to her feet, not caring anymore if she could be seen or heard, she turned her back on the scene. 

She couldn’t bear to witness any more of Kassandra’s shame. Scalding tears blurred her vision as she half climbed, half slid, down the rocky slope, skinning her elbows and knees as she went, and welcoming the pain. Perhaps the stinging grazes would help to distract from the dull ache in her chest.

At the bottom of the slope she ploughed heedlessly through her carefully nurtured tunnel, breaking twigs and branches in her haste, feeling them pluck at her clothing with greedy fingers, claw at her exposed skin.

She bundled the bows and quivers onto her shoulders and began to walk faster and faster, desperate to put distance between herself and what she’d just witnessed. Soon she was running, gulping and hiccuping as she wept and panted, the arrows in their quivers rattling against her back.

The path to Sami was in sight before she realised it, and she’d even raced along it a little way before she skidded to a halt, sending gravel flying. She couldn’t go back to Selene’s. Not like this. She couldn’t deal with the anxious questioning. Couldn’t bear to think about sharing what she’d seen, not while it still burned in her mind’s eye.

And how could she face Kassandra and Kyra when they eventually returned, sauntering back in as though nothing was amiss? She sniffed wetly and wiped her nose on the back of her hand before turning one hundred and eighty degrees and setting off at a run.

She couldn’t go back home. She certainly couldn’t go to Markos’. That didn’t even bear contemplating. The shipwrights at Kassandra’s old home were lovely, but they were mere acquaintances, how could she seek shelter there?

There was one place she could go though, she remembered. Where she’d be safe and where she wouldn’t have to deal with any questions at all. She lowered her head and set off at a sprint as the first cold drops of rain hit her face, bleeding into her tears.

  
  
  


Kassandra lay back, totally content, her face sticky and her mouth thick with the taste of Kyra, who lay satisfyingly heavy in her arms. Every fibre of every muscle in her body was relaxed, and under almost any other set of circumstances she would have been only too happy to hug Kyra tighter and drift off to sleep.

It felt like the moment when you’d had just the right amount to drink, not a mouthful too much or too little. When you felt like all was well in the world and you were secure in the knowledge that you weren’t going to suffer for it in the morning.

It felt like the moment when you melted down, safe and warm in a comfortable bed, with a productive day behind you and the prospect of another ahead, as sleep rolled over you like a wave of warm honey.

It felt like...it felt like rain was close.

Kassandra reluctantly opened her eyes. Kyra’s small ritual fire was long dead, not even the scent lingering in the air. The only light came from the moon as it struggled to make occasional appearances between the glowering clouds. Kassandra could smell the approaching rain, the change in the air that heralded the coming of a thunderstorm. They needed to move. 

Kyra must have sensed it too, or felt the stiffening of Kassandra’s posture because she sat up with a regretful sigh and leaned over to press a lingering kiss to her mouth, smiling as she tasted herself there.

“Well, sweet Misthios,” she outlined Kassandra’s lips with a slow finger. “We should head back, no? Before Zeus unleashes his fury on us, for reasons best known to himself.”

Kassandra sat up, clumsily readjusting her disarranged perizoma while watching Kyra begin to dress. She’d managed to bring Kassandra to shuddering, howling release whilst moving the bare minimum of her clothing, leaving her with ample time to sit, hugging her knees and enjoying the glorious spectacle of Kyra dressing by the fleeting moonlight.

As she retrieved her tunic Kyra felt Kassandra’s eyes upon her and looked up. She was sitting upright, powerful arms circling her legs, her chin resting on her knees. The shifting wind caught tendrils of her ruined braid, sending them drifting about her face, softening her strong features. Her eyes were warm and her smile besotted as she watched Kyra. They gazed at each other in silence for a few moments before Kyra managed to speak.

“I love you, Kassandra. I don’t think I take the time to tell you often enough. I hope that you know?”

Kassandra nodded, her smile widening.

“You look so utterly beautiful right now,” Kyra took in Kassandra’s handsome face, her soft, warm expression. “And you’ve been so patient,” she saw her tilt her head, brows creased quizzically. “All the time I was ill on the journey over,” she elaborated. “While we’ve been here.”

She stopped speaking while she pulled her tunic over her head, then continued, giving Kassandra a teasing sidelong look.

“I think you deserve to be amply rewarded on our return to Mykonos,” she punctuated with a wink. “I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with something that you’ll enjoy. A quiet evening together where  _ you _ get to call the shots perhaps?”

Kassandra had risen to her feet as she spoke and she strode over to her, grinning foxily.

“If you think for a moment that  _ I _ wasn’t actually calling the shots just then,” she placed her hands on Kyra’s hips and eased her close. 

“I know exactly what you were doing. You were gifting me control,” Kyra ran gentle fingertips along her cheek. “And I appreciated it very much.”

“I  _ appreciated _ it very much myself,” Kassandra suddenly felt a little bashful beneath the intensity of Kyra’s gaze and was glad the darkness hid her blush. “You should wash your hands,” she caught her fingers and brought them to her lips.

“And you should definitely wash your face before we head back to Selene’s or I’m pretty sure that we’ll never hear the end of it,” Kyra laughed softly.

By the time they’d rinsed away all evidence of their tryst, retrieved the deer and made their way back to Sami, the first fat drops of rain had begun to fall, and a distant, muted rumble announced the approaching storm.

Making their way through the town towards the docks they encountered a number of crew members wandering back to the Adrestia, in various degrees of inebriation, before the storm broke in earnest. 

Among them it was easy to spot the mountainous figure of Basileos. He seemed remarkably perky, but considering that he was clearly coming from Selene’s Kassandra didn’t wish for any details. He was considerate enough to return the favour as he took the stiffening carcass from her shoulders. He seemed content to enthuse over the prospect of the roast venison and rich stew it would provide, and asked no questions as to its provenance, or why it smelt strongly of singed hair.

“We’re going to get back just in time,” Kassandra glanced over her shoulder as a distant fork of lightning crackled out to sea. “Phoibe is afraid of thunderstorms,” she took Kyra’s hand as they walked.

“Is there a particular reason?” Kyra wondered as they approached Selene’s and a louder, much closer peal of thunder rang out overhead.

“Probably, but I don’t know it,” Kassandra admitted. “I always suspected that it might have something to do with when her parents were killed. I vaguely remember a storm a few days before I found her. But she can’t recall much about what happened, or she doesn’t want to.”

“Understandable,” Kyra had a sudden startling memory of a flurry of blue cloaks, blood stained armour and a woman’s agonized screams. Kassandra seemed to realise and gave her hand a comforting squeeze as she continued.

“I didn’t know how to go about trying to get it out of her. Or even if that would be the right thing to do.” She pushed open the front door and ushered Kyra into the warm lamplit room. “I was always worried that if I did, it might-” she stopped mid sentence, open mouthed and wide eyed.

Kyra followed her horrified gaze to the farthest couch and saw Barnabas and Selene guiltily jumping apart.

“Good evening, Barnabas,” Kyra swallowed her amusement and gave him a polite smile. She was genuinely pleased to see him, but the sight of him scrabbling to his feet, trying to put down a cup of wine and fuss with his tunic at the same time was delightful. “How lovely to see you. Are you well?”

“I..er...yes. Never better,” he laughed awkwardly. “Hello there Kassandra, what a lovely surprise. You’re both looking very well, a little damp though, is it raining?”

A peal of thunder muffled the end of his question and he grinned hopefully and pointed towards the ceiling. 

“Ah, Zeus says yes.”

“It’s starting to, isn’t it Kassan…” Kyra looked towards her. 

She was standing immobile, mouth open, eyes wide, gazing stunned at the couch.

“Kassandra!” Kyra gave her a sharp nudge in the ribs. “There’s a storm brewing, isn’t there? Kassandra? Storm?”

“You...were on the...couch,” she raised her hand to point, but Kyra intercepted quickly and interlaced their fingers. “Downstairs…”

“We were...yes,” Barnabas laughed nervously. “I was just up with, I mean catching up with Selene, filling her in. About the journey,” he added hastily.

“Downstairs!” Kassandra looked from him to Selene. “Together.”

For her part Selene seemed unruffled, but was glancing towards the door with increasing puzzlement.

“Pull yourself together, Kassandra, we were having a drink, not sex.”

Kyra wasn’t sure whose gasp was more scandalized, Barnabas’s or Kassandra’s.

“Absolutely not,” Barnabas blustered. “My tunic was just a little rucked up because I dropped a…”

“Be quiet, Barnabas dear,” Selene patted his hand, still looking at the door. “Where’s Phoibe?” 

A flash of blue-white light darted about the room as another loud rumble of thunder rattled the shutters.

“She...well, she,” Kassandra was still looking from Barnabas to Selene and back, a little dazed.

“Kassandra!” Selene snapped her fingers. “Phoibe? Where is she?”

“Ey? I...oh, up in bed of course,” she recovered herself. “We had a...well there was…” she winced awkwardly.

“I’m afraid there were cross words,” Kyra elaborated. “I think Kassandra sent her home, no?” she glanced up at her.

“Yes,” she nodded and glanced towards the stairs. “I’m going to go and apologise now. I shouted at her a bit and I shouldn’t…”

“Kassandra,” Selene’s voice was as rattled as Kyra had heard it so far. “We haven’t seen her since last night. Barnabas has a carving for her, we’ve been waiting to give it to her.” she nodded at a nicely whittled wooden boar standing on the table.

“All the legs are good this time,” Barnabas grinned proudly. “One ear is a bit wonky but…”

“It’s lovely Barnabas,” Selene soothed and then turned right back to Kassandra. “You sent her home? When?”

“Well...before it started to get dark,” Kassandra seemed to have forgotten the cosy scenario they’d interrupted, and was frowning, concern etched across her face. “She should have been home ages ago.”

“Perhaps she went for a little brood before she came back?” Kyra suggested hopefully. “I know I would have at her age...actually I probably still would,” she admitted. 

“Undoubtedly,” Selene nodded, folding her arms. “She has started staying out overnight now and again. But not in a storm. You know what she’s like, Kassandra.”

“Mmm, perhaps she only got here after you’d opened for business,” she was heading to the stairs. “Maybe she went through the yard and in by her window. I’m going to look.”

They stood listening as she thundered up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Moments later the sound of the bedroom door flying open and hitting the wall rattled downstairs. There was a little scuffling, followed by Kassandra bellowing Phoibe’s name and evidently bursting into Clio and Iva’s room unannounced, judging by the sounds of protest.

Kyra’s heart sank and she glanced over to Selene. Her face had gone pale and she looked drawn with worry suddenly. Barnabas had moved closer and put a comforting arm around her.

“Perhaps she misjudged the journey back and she’s holed up somewhere to wait it out?” Kyra ventured cautiously.

“She’s terrified of thunderstorms,” Selene said quietly, hugging herself and looking towards the stairs as Kassandra came bounding and sliding down them.

“Not there,” she shook her head. “Do you know where she camps when she stops out overnight?”

“Near your old place generally, I think,” Selene was rubbing her upper arms distractedly. “But, not in bad weather, obviously. Perhaps she’s in the house?” she suggested.

“I don’t think so,” Kassandra shot a meaningful glance at Kyra. She hadn’t told Selene about the tenancy agreement to avoid having to bring up Markos. But Selene broached the subject for her.

“She could have gone to the vineyard?” she looked a bit desperate. “It’s not too far. If she set off as soon as she felt the storm coming she could have…” she tailed off, her voice sounding a bit unsteady. “It’s not  _ too _ far,” she finished so quietly, that she might have been talking to herself.

Light, rapid footsteps on the stairs announced Clio’s arrival. She was barely covered by a light robe, struggling to slip her arm through the sleeve as she raced down.

“Kass, she...oh shit! I’m sorry Barny I forgot you were here,” she stopped and quickly turned her back, wriggling into the robe and fastening it before turning back to them.

“Well, under any other set of circumstances I’d say you’d made an old man very happy, my dear,” he smiled. “But...not right now, of course,” he glanced at Selene who didn’t even seem to have noticed.

“I’ll take the implied compliment,“ Clio mustered a smile as she leaned over the stair rail. “Kass! She goes to some cave or cavern or something near your old house. I tried to get details out of her once, but she’d just said it was past some dead tree and that  _ you _ knew where it was. I did point out to her that was no use to us if she ever broke her fool leg while she was down there, but...well...everyone needs a little privacy from time to time, so I didn’t press.”

“I know where it is!” Kassandra announced triumphantly. Why hadn’t she thought of it right away? “If she’s made it there, she’s totally safe. I’ll go check.”

“And I’ll go search the ship, just in case she made it there. She was helping Gelon with her quilt the last time we were here,” Barnabas reached for his sea-faded chlamys which was hanging over the back of the couch.

Even under the circumstances Clio’s eyebrows shot up at this piece of information.

“Needlework eh?” she observed. “She’s a woman of many talents. Kass, don’t you want a lantern or something if you’re going searching around in the dark?"

“No, it’s fine, if she’s where I’m sure she is, then she’ll have a lamp there,” she was tightening the fastenings on her boots. They’d barely dried and now they were going to get wet again she thought ruefully. “Barnabas, stay on the ship would you?”

He looked over, puzzled, as Selene arranged his chlamys and fastened the clasp.

“Just in case she’s tried to make her way back and I miss her or something,” she explained.

“I’ll come with you,” Kyra began, but Kassandra took her arms gently and shook her head. 

“No, I think it will be better if I go on my own,” she decided. “I need to talk with her, and if she’s where I’m sure she is...well,” she frowned. “It’s just better that I go by myself, please?” she touched her forehead to Kyra’s. “Plus, I’d like you to take care of Selene,” she whispered.

Kyra wasn’t sure that the last suggestion wasn’t more of a justification for keeping her here than a request made out of genuine need, Clio and Iva were here after all. But if this was some private hide out that only Kassandra and Phoibe knew about then she could see the wisdom in her not going barging in, intruding on her privacy.

“If you find her,” Selene was cradling Barnabas’ worried face in her hands, running her fingers through his grizzled beard. “Keep her there where she’ll feel safe, but send one of the crew to let us know, please?” she gave him a soft kiss.

“Of course, sweet lady,” he patted her hands. “Don’t you worry now. Between Kassandra and me, she’s as good as found.”

Thankfully, Kassandra had been so occupied speaking to Kyra that she’d missed this little interaction.

“Kyra will stay here with you,” she turned, just as Barnabas made his way to the door. “Try not to worry too much Selene, I’m almost certain that I know where she is. I’m not going to try and bring her back whilst this is still going on,” she had to raise her voice over another peal of thunder. “So don’t be concerned if we aren’t back before first light.”

“She’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Kyra went over to Selene and slipped a comforting arm about her waist. “Kassandra seems confident she knows where she is. And even though she’s afraid of storms, she’s a smart, brave girl, she’ll have got herself somewhere secure.”

“Kass, are you taking a…” Clio shouted after her, but the door slammed closed before she could finish, “...cloak? No, I guess not,” she shrugged. 

“Well,” she looked over to Selene and Kyra. “Would you like me to stay up with you, we can have a drink, keep each other company, a threesome...well, no, not a...that came out wrong, I’m sorry,” she looked wrong footed for once. “Tell you what,” she smiled. “I’ll leave you to it. But I’m just in our room if you need me, or want me, whichever.”

She began to make her way upstairs, pausing after a few steps.

“Selene? She’s all right. Wherever she is, Kass will find her, and she won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Or you’ll kick her ass, right?” Kyra smiled, remembering the previous night.

“Absolutely,” Clio grinned. “I’m small but limber. Just shout if you need anything. I’m going to make sure that all the shutters are secure.”

There was an awkward silence once she’d left, or as much silence as the raging storm would permit. Clio was clearly wise to be checking the windows Kyra thought as a door on the third floor burst open and the wind howled mournfully down the stairs, sending a sudden chill around the room.

“I don’t know about you, Kyra,” Selene sighed at last, stroking her hand. “But I need a drink. Something a little more robust than that,” she nodded to the jug on the table. “Take a seat, I’ll be right back.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that Kassandra may have learned her communication skills from her mother, but that if you rattle her hard enough she'll have a halfway decent conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell does Kassandra keep referring to, I hear someone muttering.  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17800925/chapters/41997491

Outside, the wind did its best to snatch the door from Kassandra’s hand but she held firm and dragged it closed, making sure the lock had caught before lowering her head and setting off at a run.

Theoretically it was entirely possible that Phoibe was holed up in a shed or stable somewhere, scared out of her wits, or that she’d made it to the Adrestia and was now curled up in Gelon’s bunk quilting, of all things. But deep in her heart Kassandra knew she wasn’t. She knew exactly where she was, she was absolutely confident about it.

It was an unpleasantly long run in filthy weather. The flashes of lightning freeze-framing the landscape were becoming more and more frequent, thunder hot on their heels. Before too long Kassandra’s tunic was dripping and clinging to her like a second skin, mud splashed up her boots, spattering her thighs, and she had to stop a couple of times to try and wipe the stinging rain from her eyes.

Eventually, she reached the small clearing, surrounded on three sides by rocky walls, that was her target. It was years since she’d been here she thought, as she stood in the centre of it, catching her breath and searching for the crevice in the rocks that led to Phoibe’s hideout.

Kassandra hadn’t revisited the place since the time she’d blundered in all those years ago, looking for the mysterious intruder who’d been lurking around her home. She’d managed to track her here and wriggled her way in, not entirely sure what she was going to find.

What she’d encountered was a bedraggled, filthy, traumatized little girl, desperate for help and comfort and totally incapable of asking for it. There had been times in the intervening years when Kassandra had wondered if the Fates had been cruel or kind in sending help to her in the form of Kassandra. Gentle nurturing wasn’t one of her strengths after all. Sending a child afraid to ask for comfort, a guardian who didn’t always know how to offer it could have been a disaster. But somehow, they’d managed to work something out between them. So far, at least. 

She flinched instinctively as thunder and lightning hit simultaneously. From the moment Kyra had cautiously suggested it, way back on Mykonos, the idea of forming her own cobbled together little family had softened something in Kassandra’s spirit. 

She’d greeted her mother’s suggestion of settling down with some suitably meritorious man, bearing children, continuing her precious bloodline, with the scorn she’d felt it deserved. The whole concept was ludicrous and offensive to her and she’d said so.

“You can keep a woman for pleasure, if you insist,” Myrrine had shrugged, with the air of one making a perfectly reasonable suggestion. “I can find a suitable man for you. One who will be proud to sire children with the mighty Kassandra of Sparta, Leonidas’ own blood. One who will be only too happy to turn a blind eye to your proclivities, in return for the honour you will bestow on him.”

“You’re suggesting that I keep a mistress, whilst being covered by a man of your choosing...for offspring? You’re suggesting _ breeding _ me?”

“I’m suggesting that you be pragmatic, for the sake of our bloodline. As _ I _ was, if I might remind you.”

“Allow me to remind _ you _ that I didn’t fucking ask you to!”

There had been an ear rattling row. Kassandra had stormed out and hadn’t seen her mother since. The very idea had made her feel sick to her stomach.

But settling down with Kyra, raising Phoibe together, that was entirely different. She could imagine herself doing that. Indeed, she'd begun to imagine it so often that it had almost become a fact in her mind. The mess she’d made of things so far sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the abysmal weather.

She needed to get to Phoibe, sort this out, make things right. But first, she needed to find the entrance to this bloody cave. Clio had been right, she should have brought a lantern. Of course Phoibe would have one, but it was no fucking use to Kassandra out here. Gods, she shook her head, squinting through the stinging rain, she was in danger of making a horse’s ass of _this_ as well.

“Pull yourself together, for fuck’s sake,” she grumbled. “It’s a miracle you avoided becoming a statue in the Petrified Valley, the way you’re shaping yourself recently. Work your way round the walls, use a bit of sense!”

She’d just begun to do that when a huge fork of lightning split the sky, and as if to reward her decision it illuminated the whole clearing, including the narrow crevice in the rock that she was searching for. Keeping her gaze locked in that direction until her vision cleared, she made right for it.

It looked tiny. She’d been barely out of her teens when she’d last been here of course. Big and strong by normal standards but still growing, needing to bulk out to fit her frame. It had proven a tight fit for the still slightly gawky Kassandra back then, it would be tighter still now. To the best of her knowledge there was no other way though, and standing out here in the pissing down rain, with the thunder rattling her eardrums was achieving nothing. 

She took a few deep breaths, as though preparing to dive, and began to sidle in. The first half a dozen shuffling crablike steps weren’t too bad. The gritty rock caressed her chest and back, but its touch was initially lover-like and some light crept in from the clearing, fortified by a flash of lightning now and then.

This was all right, she told herself, it had looked worse than it was. She’d no sooner completed the thought than the walls seemed to close in on her. Struggling to ease herself further in she felt the shaft of the Spear grinding painfully against her spine. She should have taken that off, she realised immediately. She needed every spare inch in here. Trying to reach up behind her proved unsuccessful, she couldn’t flex her shoulders anywhere near enough to reach behind her and unsheath it.

“Fuck!” she hissed under her breath, hearing the wall whisper her curse back in her face. There was nothing for it but to go back, take off the Spear and start again. For one heart stopping moment she thought she’d trapped herself. Her torso refused to follow her hips and legs, unable to move one way or the other.

Biting back the threat of panic she wriggled a little and found that the butt of the Spear had caught in a crack. Exhaling fully and twisting an inch freed it and she shuffled eagerly out into the clearing. She removed the Spear and its wet harness and refastened it low about her hips. It wasn’t her hips causing the trouble after all and she didn’t want to leave the precious weapon out here unprotected.

She approached the entrance once again, bouncing on her toes a little, breathing deeply. She cast her mind back to the last time she’d passed through here, and remembered that she’d had the good sense to remove the Spear first that time. And bring a lantern. Maybe she was getting stupider as she got older? Was her body making muscle from her brains, she wondered, smiling wryly and brushing aside a strand of wet hair that was blowing into her eyes.

She could do this. The first part of the tunnel was the worst, the narrowest. Progress wasn’t helped by the fact that it sloped downwards for the first few dozen feet, making you feel like you were in danger of slipping into the vice-like grip of the walls. But once through there, you felt the ground begin to slope upwards and it widened out. Not enough to be comfortable at any point, but enough that you could breathe at least.

Come on, Kassandra! She slapped her thighs, took a final chestful of cold air and slipped back into the narrow crevice. Progress was a little easier now without the unyielding Spear impeding her. But gods the walls were closing in. It couldn’t be much further she reasoned as her lungs began to protest. The light from the entrance had died now and it was pitch dark in here.

Kassandra had not relished dark, tight spaces since that terrible night on Mount Taygetos, though she hadn’t revealed her weakness to many. As the walls hugged her tighter, and her chest screamed to expand she could feel a rising panic, clawing at her guts. 

It would be dangerous folly to succumb to it, she chastised herself. She needed to keep calm, control her breathing. The air felt still and stale, her chest restricted by the walls and she knew she was in danger of hyperventilating. That would be just grand, she mentally kicked herself. Pass out here in the entrance to the bloody tunnel. Some great rescuer you are.

Her pulse was racing, struggling to pump the diminishing oxygen supply around her body, and her ears were beginning to buzz alarmingly.

“It’s all right, Kassandra,” she rested her forehead against the gritty rock, pressed hard, wanting to feel it bite a little. “Everything is all right,” she thought, trying to soothe the terrified child within her that still tumbled through the dark, still found herself trapped amongst a mound of tiny skeletons. “You aren’t falling. The walls aren’t moving. Feel them. It’s tight, but they aren’t shifting. There’s enough air. You just need to use it properly. Slow breaths, with your belly, not your chest. That’s better. It’s just till you get to the chamber. Imagine you’re swimming. Somewhere beautiful. No sharks. You’re holding your breath because you want to. Everything is fine.”

It was working, she could feel her pulse beginning to slow. This was easier than diving, she told herself, resting her hands against the gritty wall behind her, running her fingers over its rough surface. At least she could breathe when she wanted to here, even if it wasn’t as deeply as she desired. There wasn’t as much air as she wanted, but there was as much as she needed. 

Suddenly something dry and chitinous with too many legs scuttled over the back of her fingers. Giving an involuntary grunt of disgust she flicked her hand violently, cracking the knuckles against the rock. Bloody marvelous she scowled. Thank the gods there was no-one here to see this performance.

“Come on now, we can do this, we’ve done it before, we can do it again,” she spoke aloud now and instantly regretted it. Her voice sounded eerie and muffled by the rocks and only served to remind her how very alone she was. 

Not alone though, she reminded herself, Phoibe was further in. Sitting huddled in her makeshift camp, covering her ears against the storm. Hoping for Kassandra to come? She gritted her teeth and soldiered on, feeling the rock begin to scrape through the wet fabric of her tunic, scouring her shoulder blades. The pain was sharp and welcome, it distracted her from the drumming in her ears and the odd sparks of light where she knew none could really be.

She’d once drunk with an old adventurer who had lost a hand when he became trapped in a cave by a rockfall. He’d claimed that after a very short while, lying bleeding in the dark, he’d begun to see shadowy phantoms of his compatriots, even calling out to them, thinking they’d come to save him.

“T’weren’t them of course,” he’d smacked ale foam from his whiskers. “It’s just your mind. It can’t deal with seeing nothing, so it makes up something.”

That’s what her mind was doing now, she told herself, and it could damn well stop it, she had enough to deal with without bloody spirit lights interfering. She forced her way along a little more, cursing silently as she felt skin scraping from her back. If asked, she would not have thought that she was this much bigger than the youth who had made the trip last time. But here she was, imagining that she could hear her ribs creaking as she braced her legs and heaved herself another step further.

It would be a hell of a place to die, a treacherous voice in the back of her mind whispered. Stuck in a tunnel on Kephallonia of all places. Trying to reach a little girl who would be perfectly capable of finding her own way out come morning.

“Not if your great purpling corpse is stuck here, blocking her exit,” the voice snickered. “Imagine that. Imagine her trapped here by the very woman who’d come to save her. Down here, in her secret safe place. Would she eat you eventually do you think?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Kassandra snarled, exhaling all the meagre air in her lungs, giving a great convulsive heave, and forcing herself on, feeling her tunic tear at her back. Instantly, she half toppled over to the side, clawing instinctively at the rock to stop herself falling. Not that she could have fallen far she discovered. The ground was sloping upwards, she’d made it through the constricting entrance. If she recalled correctly the tunnel widened out a little now, she could breathe normally, flex her shoulders a bit.

“Ow, shit!” she felt and heard her head hit rock. But not stand erect, she remembered, a moment too late. She’d come out of here with a knot on her head last time too, it was almost a tradition.

Stooped over, hamstrings complaining, she shuffled on. At least it was a single passage, no forks, not even any confusing alcoves to lead you astray in the dark. You could get stuck, but you wouldn’t get lost. You’d know exactly where you were dying.

It could only have been a matter of a few minutes since she entered, though it seemed much longer. A few more halting steps and gradually the darkness seemed to thin. At first she was tempted to dismiss it as her imagination, but the light grew, flickering warmly. It was a lamp.

Shuffling past the final rocky bulge in the wall she saw the entrance to the chamber, glowing orange. She took a deep breath and stepped through.

The last time she’d been here, she'd had only her own lantern for illumination. The air had smelled stale, with an under-note of shit and spoiled meat. A mean bed of twigs and the remains of a feeble camp fire had been all that passed for decor.

Now there were two lamps burning, and a small fire crackling in the centre of the chamber. A good portion of the floor was covered with evergreen branches, lending a sharp clean smell to the place. Rough clout nails had been hammered into the wall here and there. From some hung bundles of herbs, lavender mainly judging by the scent. From a couple of others hung strings of what looked like dried meat and fish. There were a couple of small, stoppered amphorae by one wall, a smaller jug propped in front of them. Water and oil? The scratchy makeshift pallet had been replaced with a thin bedroll and a couple of blankets, and sitting huddled amongst them, back against the wall, hands over her ears was Phoibe.

Kassandra’s immediate instinct was to race over and wrap her in a hug, but her feet refused to move. Taking a deep breath and licking her lips she opened her mouth to speak and was interrupted by a muffled clap of thunder. Phoibe pressed her hands harder against her ears and screwed her eyes shut tight.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Kassandra ventured as soon as the noise had passed and Phoibe had begun to relax. 

She jumped a little and opened her eyes wide. She’d clearly been crying, her eyes were red and her grimy face was streaked with tears.

“May I come in, please?” Kassandra nodded. “It’s a tight squeeze in that tunnel,” she smiled softly and waited for Phoibe’s response. She sniffed wetly and nodded, flinching again at another muffled rumble.

“It’s all right Phoibe,” Kassandra soothed. “You’re safe in here. You chose a really good hideout. Can I come sit with you?” she nodded to the bedroll, walking over and sitting beside Phoibe as she shuffled over to make room.

They sat quietly, side by side for a moment, before Kassandra spoke.

“You know, I thought I was trapped in that bloody tunnel back there for a minute. Just between you and me, I panicked a bit.”

Another rumble of thunder. The storm was definitely worsening. Feeling Phoibe flinch she reached out and pulled her close. There was a moment of awkward hesitation and then she flung her arms about Kassandra, clinging to her like a monkey.

“I’m sorry Kassandra. I’m really sorry,” she hiccuped between sobs.

“About what, little one?” Kassandra hauled the trembling girl onto her lap and cradled her against her chest, both of them heedless of her wet tunic. Phoibe would be a little on the large side for anyone else to cuddle her like this, but she fit perfectly in Kassandra’s arms, her head resting under her chin.

“About making you come down that tunnel,” she mumbled. “It’s scary in the dark.”

“Tell me about it,” Kassandra pressed a kiss to the top of Phoibe’s head. “I didn’t wet myself, but it was touch and go at one point,” she joked. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Phoibe sniffed. “You should have brought a lantern.”

“Exactly what Clio said. But you know what I’m like. I won’t be told.”

She felt Phoibe shift slightly in her embrace and look towards the entrance.

“Is she here with you?” her voice was scarcely above a whisper.

“Clio?!” Kassandra snorted. “As if. You’d have heard her complaining minutes before we got here. Especially about the creepy crawlies.”

“No. I meant...Kyra?”

She sounded nervous, Kassandra thought. Perhaps she was afraid that Kyra was still angry about this afternoon’s fiasco, or the bow? She stroked her hair gently.

“No. She wanted to come though. She’s worried about you. Everyone is worried about you. Because of the storm, not because they don’t think you can take care of yourself. But I told her I wanted to come by myself, so we could have a talk together?”

Phoibe’s nervous gulp was audible even over the muffled grumble of retreating thunder, as she grabbed reflexively at Kassandra’s arm.

“I _ know _,” she said quietly. “I know about what’s going on.”

“Ah!” Kassandra raised her chin and sighed. It was perfectly possible that Phoibe had crept back to eavesdrop on the adults’ conversation the previous evening. Clio’s voice did tend to carry when she was excited, for whatever reason. But it was odd that Phoibe hadn’t said anything about it all day, or even seemed like she was keeping a secret. It would have been far more in character for her to come racing down to join in, excited about the prospect of leaving with Kassandra, wouldn’t it?.

“What _ is _ going on then, Phoibe?”

There was another tense pause and she could feel Phoibe steeling herself to speak.

“You can talk to me about whatever it is, Phoibe I won’t be-” Kassandra stopped mid-reassurance. She’d told her that before and then immediately back tracked, she thought guiltily. “Look. I’m sorry about today little one. I truly am. I told you that I don’t get cross with you, and then I turned right round and got cross.”

“It’s all right,” she interrupted. “I know why you lost your temper. I get why you’ve been...a bit weird. It’s Kyra.”

Well this conversation was in danger of taking an awkward turn, Kassandra swallowed. She wasn’t entirely wrong after all. Kassandra probably_ was _changing as she tried to adapt to a new type of relationship. 

“I know she’s a sorceress,” Phoibe blurted.

If she’d been expecting some immediate response from Kassandra she didn’t get it. Glancing up she saw her gazing down at her looking astonished and amused. 

“I saw,” Phoibe persisted. “I saw it all.”

Kassandra gave a short snort of laughter, but not unkindly. She shook her head and ruffled Phoibe’s hair lightly.

“The arrow!” of course she was puzzled and astonished by the arrow. Kassandra was as well if she was honest.

“I understand. Well I don’t understand the flame, not really, but I understand why you’re puzzled. I think it is magical, or mystical or something, I mean it has to be, right? It’s definitely a Daughters of Artemis thing, I know that. I’ve seen them use it against intruders.” 

The intruder in question had been Kassandra on more than one occasion, but Phoibe didn’t need to know that right now.

“And I know for a fact that they can train wild animals. I haven’t had any serious run ins with them truthfully, one or two rogue members now and again. But the Daughters as a group have never bothered me and I’ve tried to stay out of their way as much as possible. I think there must be something mystical about them, but they aren’t sorceresses Phoibe. I’m pretty sure of that. They’re devoted to Artemis, I’ve stumbled into their hunting grounds on occasion and I’ve seen that. I think the ability to summon flame is some blessing that their faith gives them.”

“But...I heard what you said Kassandra. Perhaps you can’t remember it now. Perhaps that’s part of the spell?”

“What spell, little one?” Kassandra leaned back a bit to try and see Phoibe’s expression, but she was avoiding meeting her eyes, running a nervy finger back and forth along one of the bands of scar tissue on Kassandra’s bicep. “I _ absolutely _ remember the arrow,” she assured her.

“The spell that you said she’d put on you. She’s bewitched you Kassandra, you said so yourself. I heard you.”

“When did I say that?” she was genuinely puzzled now. “Perhaps you misheard me saying something similar.”

“No, Kassandra,” Phoibe looked up sharply, her eyes wet and wide. “I heard you say it, down by the pool. I saw everything. She _ is _ a sorceress, it’s the only explanation.”

“Oh!” Kassandra’s eyes widened. “Oh.. shit,” she thought, feeling a hot blush rush up her face to the tips of her ears. 

She’d been worried about the conversation taking an awkward turn earlier, but this was another order of magnitude. What exactly had Clio and Selene told Phoibe about sex, she wondered? She probably should have asked them before now, instead of just hoping it would never come up. Forewarned was forearmed, after all. 

Kassandra was fairly certain that Selene would _ not _ have covered what had been going on by the pool, not exactly. But Clio maybe? She could be pretty frank. Not generally with Phoibe though, she sighed, rubbing her face wearily. 

Oh gods. Given a choice between dealing with this and heading back out into that tunnel...but she was going to have to head back into that tunnel sooner or later, and she was going to have to deal with _this_ too.

Heaving a huge, rather shaky sigh, she raised her eyes to the ceiling. Phoibe must come here quite regularly, a sooty patch was forming in the centre above the fire pit.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Phoibe shifted in her lap. “She’s made you forget. That’s what the heart was for.”

“The heart?” Kassandra frowned. “The deer heart? Phoibe, just what_ did _you see?” she steeled herself. “And where in Hades were you?”

“There’s a little rocky ledge over the pool,” she rubbed her eyes. She must be so tired by now Kassandra thought sadly, but she doubted that it would help to suggest discussing this in the morning. 

“I found a path up to it a while back. I was going to show it to you. You can see the pool from it, watch animals drinking. I thought we could hunt a deer this time. You and me,” she sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

Kassandra shifted awkwardly and fished about in her pocket, producing her relatively clean but thoroughly wet handkerchief, wringing it out before handing it to Phoibe with an apologetic smile. 

“Not by setting one on fire, I don’t suppose?”

Phoibe blew her nose and shot a quick, cautious glance at Kassandra. 

“I thought you’d be furious about that, but when I got there, you weren’t even cross with her, and I was puzzled but then you said it, you said she’d cast a spell on you, I heard you Kassandra, I swear, you said she’d bewitched you, you definitely said it. I heard you, I really did, I’m not making it up, I promise,” she was sounding increasingly frantic and Kassandra placed a soothing hand on her grubby cheek and met her eyes.

“Hey it’s all right, little one. I know I did, but...oh Phoibe. It’s just a figure of speech. Like when you were reading that poetry last night and you asked why poets say women are like flowers? Remember? I just meant that she’s so pretty and clever and brave that it’s _ like _ she’s cast a spell on me. Not that she’s really an enchantress,” she tapped her under the chin. “I’m not going to say that sorceresses don’t exist, because I’ve seen some _ really _ strange things. But Kyra definitely isn’t one,” she laughed kindly.

“But she is!” Phoibe persisted. “She must be. It’s the only way! It’s the only way she could have. How could she have kicked you over and pinned you otherwise, it had to be a spell. There’s no way she’s stronger than you, or a better fighter, but she told you to get on your knees and you just did it Kassandra, you just dropped. How could she do that if..” the end of her question was lost in her sobs.

Oh...fuck...Kassandra swallowed hard, licking her lips nervously. 

“Right...right...so...so you saw her...pin me?” she ventured, stroking her hair absently as she sobbed against her chest. “And...then?”

“I wanted to help, Kassandra. I did. I really did,” her voice was muffled against Kassandra’s damp tunic, her hands clutching at her waist. “But I had to leave my bow behind to get up to the ledge, I didn’t have anything. And if she was powerful enough to beat _ you _ , what chance did_ I_ have? I ran away!” shame was evident in her feeble wail. “I ran away like a coward. Because I was scared. I ran away and I just left you there and then I came and hid here. Like a coward.”

The sense of relief was like sinking into a warm bath. Kassandra rocked Phoibe gently until her weeping quietened and then she eased her back a little so that she could look at her.

“Little one,” she took the damp handkerchief from her hand, refolded it and wiped her face gently. “You got the wrong end of the stick, that’s all. I don’t blame you, I really don’t. It’s because of that bloody arrow business. That upset everyone. But, she wasn’t really overpowering me. If you hadn’t been rattled by the thing with the fire and the poor deer, then you’d have realised what was going on. We were just playing, Phoibe, that’s all,” it was half true, Kassandra reasoned with herself, better than an outright lie, and less excruciating than the truth.

Phoibe’s face crumpled again, but in dubious confusion this time.

“You were what? Playing at what? I don’t get it. Why would you be playing? After she’d just set fire to a poor doe.”

“That was an unfortunate accident,” Kassandra grimaced. “And believe me, no one was more upset about it than Kyra.”

“I think the deer probably was,” Phoibe muttered, unconvinced.

“Good point,” she conceded. “But Kyra truly is a great hunter, I swear,” she took Phoibe’s grimy hand and pressed it to her own chest. “She was shamed by what happened. The Daughters never hunt to excess, they kill swiftly and cleanly and use every part. I’ve seen that much. They offer to Artemis and one thing Kyra _ has _ told me is that they never use the flame arrows to kill game. Not to slay an animal they could dispatch more humanely with a normal arrow, ever. When she shouted at us and stormed off...she was ashamed, Phoibe.”

“But she didn’t do it on purpose,” she sounded thoughtful. “The arrow yes, but none of us knew the deer was there. It was shit luck, especially for the deer but..”

Kassandra decided to let the mild profanity pass unchallenged under the circumstances.

“I know that, you know that, and I think Kyra knew that deep down, but sometimes you feel bad for things you couldn’t help, no? She was afraid that she had offended Artemis, and let’s be honest, the gods can be touchy. I took the heart to her so she could make an offering. And when she did...well something a bit odd happened then,” she tailed off, remembering the majestic beast that had stalked down to the water’s edge.

“The white deer?” Phoibe filled in.

“You saw that?”

“I couldn’t miss it, it was massive. Are you going to tell me it was some sort of...magical deer,” she sounded skeptical again.

“I honestly don’t know what it was,” Kassandra shrugged. “But it’s damn strange that a white doe got to that size, no?” she waited for Phoibe’s confirmatory nod. “And it turning up just as Kyra was making an offering to Artemis? Weird, right? Look! I’m not saying that it wasn’t just a really lucky, really thirsty deer, but the point is, it doesn’t really matter what _ we _ think because Kyra thought it was a sign from her patroness that she was forgiven. And she was so grateful and happy,” she smiled, thinking back to Kyra’s delighted, youthful relief.

Phoibe was no longer crying. She shifted on Kassandra’s lap, to lean back against her chest, chewing her lip pensively.

“Perhaps she _ did _ send the deer,” she suggested, grudgingly. “Artemis I mean. Clio says Aphrodite protects her after all. And she _ has _ never got sick, or got pregnant, so maybe…” she contrived to shrug with both shoulders and lips. “And it’s sort of mean to not forgive someone when they’re really, really sorry. So maybe it _ was _ a sign.”

“Perhaps so,” this was going well so far. Kassandra pushed on carefully. “Anyway, she was so happy, that it made me happy and I said something that I hoped sounded romantic, but not about flowers,” she ventured a playful half-smile. “And then we ended up just fooling around. Not _ fooling around, _ fooling around,” she hastily corrected. “I mean…”

“I get it,” Phoibe rolled her eyes a little. ”Not sex, just horseplay.”

Kassandra hoped that the soft lamp light was hiding her blush.

“Exactly! Like when you and I horse around. We both know that you couldn’t really take me in a fight. Not yet anyway,” she gave her a nudge. “Well, it was kind of like that...we were playing. Besides,” she had a flash of inspiration. “If she really did have me under magical control, she would be here right now. She wouldn’t have said, all right, when I asked her not to come with me.”

Phoibe gave this a few moments deep consideration.

“I suppose so,” she conceded. “And I suppose she could have just _ made _ me take that bow this morning.”

“Gods. I’m sorry about the bow, Phoibe. I didn’t think properly.”

“You’re making a bit of a habit of it, if you don’t mind me saying so,” she replied quietly.

It was a fair enough point Kassandra had to admit.

“I thought a new bow would be a good idea. I lent her Chara so the bowyer could copy the pattern. I didn’t think.”

“Why would she even want to give me something like that though?”

“Because she wants you to like her.”

“But why? She doesn’t even know me.”

“She knows _ me _ though. And she likes me. She knows how important you are to me,” she tucked a stray lock of hair behind Phoibe’s ear. “She wants to make friends with you Phoibe, that’s all. But she struggles to do it sometimes. Her job doesn’t let her make a lot of friends.”

“What is her job? I asked you before and you didn’t say? She’s not a priestess is she? Are priestesses of Artemis even allowed to have girlfriends?”

“An interesting question, and one to which I do not know the answer. Though I suspect it’s no,” Kassandra gave an amused huff. “But listen a minute Phoibe,” she took a deep breath. “I want to say something important, before we get sidetracked. It’s something else I should have said much earlier. Ages ago, when I left Kephallonia, I said it was much too dangerous for you to come with me?”

Phoibe turned sharply, her heart suddenly thudding in her chest like a drum, the blood surging in her ears. Oh gods...she’d been right...it _ was _ going to be this time...Kassandra was going to…

“...but I’ve got that under control now. It took far longer than I could have imagined. I never thought I’d find my mater and my brother, there was no way to....well, that's not the point,” she shook her head and dragged herself back on track. 

“The point is, I made you a promise. It must seem to you that I made it a very long time ago, and I’m sorry about that. But things are much safer now. Not totally safe, life never is. But I can look after you now. I’ve decided to make a home, to settle down, on Mykonos. It’s beautiful and the people are nice, and there’s lots of work that needs doing, work that I can help with. It’s slap bang in the middle of the Aegean, the Adrestia can harbour there, Barnabas is happy to see his old homeland again...well...what I’m trying to ask is whether you would still like to -”

Phoibe’s exultant cry of “yes!” rang around the chamber as she flung her arms around Kassandra’s neck and clung on like a limpet.

“You’re sure?” she laughed, rubbing her back. “Because if you’ve changed your mind?” she teased.

“No! I mean no I haven't changed my mind. I _ knew _ you hadn’t forgotten. Markos said you didn’t mean it. He said you just said it to make me feel better, but I knew you meant it.”

Kassandra found herself wishing that Kyra had chosen to shop Markos to Korax rather than just prise the money out of him. The mean-spirited bastard! She was half tempted to plough back through that bloody tunnel right now and send him for a midnight swim.

“Of course, I want you with me, little one,” she whispered, pressing a quick kiss to Phoibe’s temple. “It wouldn’t really be home without you.”

“And we get to go back on the Adrestia?” Phoibe sat back and beamed at her. “With Barnabas?”

“Well it would be a dirty trick to leave him behind,” she laughed. “Plus I don’t even know if we’d make it without him, he’s a lot more useful than he looks,” she teased.

“Will we see whales? And dolphins? Thyia says the dolphins race in front of the ship and sometimes whales jump right up out of the water? And there are fish that can fly? But I don’t know if she made that bit up? And at night there are sort of lights in the water? Glowy things, and…”

“Yes, yes,” Kassandra laughed. “You’ll see them all, little hunter. And you’ll get sea sick, and really fed up of peeing in a bucket, and sick to death of salt fish.”

“I don’t care,” she threw her arms around Kassandra’s back and gave an abrupt grunt of surprise. “Kassandra, what’s?” she knelt up and peered around one broad shoulder. “Oh Kassandra, your back.”

“What? Oh...I said it was a tight fit,” she shrugged it off. “I’ve filled out a bit since the last time I was here.”

“You should have crawled,” Phoibe examined the tears in her tunic. “It’s wider near the floor, though there’s wriggly things, but they don’t come this far for some reason. We should clean you up before we go back. I can’t hear the storm anymore.”

“I was thinking that we could sleep here tonight?” Kassandra suggested. “You’ve made it really nice.”

“But won’t the others be worried?” it suddenly occurred to her, guilt flitting across her features.

“I told them we wouldn’t be back before first light,” Kassandra shucked off her tunic and assessed the damage. 

“Well then we should definitely clean you up. Maybe Gelon can mend that tunic for you, she’s very good with a needle,” she clambered off Kassandra’s lap and went to pour some water into a small bowl, returning with it and a reasonably clean washcloth.

“So everyone keeps saying,” Kassandra turned in response to her nudge and leaned forward to allow Phoibe to kneel behind her and begin washing the scrapes.

“Just because her language is robust, doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have a softer side,” Phoibe observed quietly, hissing sympathetically at a particularly deep gouge.

“Hard mouth, soft heart, you’re telling me then?” she nodded, smiling to herself.

“Mmm,” Phoibe fell silent for a while as she concentrated on prying bits of grit from the deeper scratches on Kassandra’s back. Eventually, satisfied with her work she put aside the cloth and bowl and gave her shoulder a gentle pat.

“Done!” she got to her feet, indicating that Kassandra should follow suit and began to straighten out the blankets. “In fact you should find her a nice woman,” she continued, struggling to stifle a yawn as Kassandra took up position on the bedroll and held out welcoming arms towards her.

“Should I now?!” she chuckled, drawing Phoibe in close to warm her, and tucking the thin covers in about them as well as she could one-handed.

“Mmm,” Phoibe sounded drowsy. She snuggled back against Kassandra and pillowed her head on her powerful bicep. “She’s had long enough now to mourn Gyke. It’s time she had someone to take care of her, or to take care of, I suppose.” 

Kassandra gave a soft huff of surprise, but her voice was quietly firm when she answered.

“I think that’s for Gelon to decide. Don’t you go interfering there!”

“I wasn’t going to,” Phoibe defended sleepily. “I thought that you could,” she ignored Kassandra’s outraged snort and carried on. “If the crew is staying on the Silver Islands now, there’s bound to be lots of nice women on Mykonos, no? Maybe some who aren’t picky about language, or maybe don’t hear so well? In fact, I bet you know most of them, don’t you?”

“There’s only one woman on Mykonos that I’m interested in. And I was smitten from the first moment I saw her,” Kassandra reminisced dreamily.

“Saw her doing what?” Phoibe mumbled around a yawn. “Bathing naked under a waterfall?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“No,” Kassandra gave her a playful squeeze. “She threw a dagger at my head actually, while she was draining a huge cup of wine, I don’t think she was even looking really. I thought that she was the most fascinating woman I had ever seen. Her eyes… and that cocky smirk she gave me, like she couldn’t believe I’d had the nerve to just walk in there…” she could almost feel Phoibe’s spectacular eye roll, even though she had her back to her.

“She tried to knife you?!” she shook her head. “She threw a knife at your head and you thought, oh, she’s gorgeous!” 

“She wasn’t serious. She was just playing.”

“You two play some really strange games,” Phoibe sounded unconvinced. “I just don’t get what’s so special about her,” she sounded perplexed. “I get that she’s really pretty, but so is Clio. And she has a really nice body, but then so has Clio. And you say-”

“Ooh, sounds like someone’s got a little crush on Clio,” Kassandra teased, tickling her ribs.

“Ah! Stop it!” Phoibe wriggled. “No I don’t. She’s_ Clio _, don’t be weird! I’m just trying to understand what it is that you see in her. What makes her so special? Is it the sex?” she felt Kassandra flinch behind her.

“Oh don’t get all strange about it, please?” she hugged the powerful forearm around her waist. “Help me understand. Please? I mean, is she just better at it than your other girlfriends or what?”

There was an awkward silence, but at last she felt Kassandra making an effort to relax, heard her take a couple of slow, deep breaths. Eventually she heard the faint sound of her licking her lips and swallowing before beginning to speak.

“It’s not that Phoibe. And, well, you don’t do that. You don’t rank people like that. Who’s better than the other, it doesn’t work like that. It’s hard to explain, but it...sex I mean, it isn’t like that. It’s..it’s…” Phoibe could feel her struggling for the words and remained quiet for once, stroking the hard cords of her forearm, slow and soothing.

“Sex, well, when you’re doing it right,” she continued at last, her voice so low that Phoibe had to listen hard. “It’s not just about...rubbing your parts together, it's...sort of…” she tailed off.

“If you say it's about rubbing your hearts together, I’m going to throw up, I swear,” Phoibe said, dryly, relieved to hear Kassandra’s grateful chuckle.

“Well I can’t now. But I may file that away for future use.”

“No woman could resist,” Phoibe teased. “Sappho would weep.”

“I don’t really know how to explain it, Phoibe, I’m sorry,” Kassandra pressed an absent minded kiss to the top of her head. “I mean, sex is part of it, and it’s-” she cleared her throat awkwardly. “It’s good. It’s_ really _ good,” she sounded bashful. “But the reason it’s so good, is because of how we feel about each other. Not the other way round. I feel...safe with Kyra... _ known _. We’ve struggled hard to get where we are now Phoibe, and it’s been difficult and painful at times, but we worked at it because we wanted to be together.”

She took a deep breath and decided to plough forward.

“You’ve well...I know you’ve seen me being more..” she blushed guiltily, relieved that Phoibe still had her back to her. “More...flippant about sex? Looking like I wasn’t taking it seriously? And...well it is fun, if you’re doing it for the right reasons. But...gods, Phoibe, when you do it with the right _ person _? It’s so different. It’s so much more. When I’m with Kyra,” she could feel her ears burning, her chest constricting with embarrassment but soldiered on. “When I’m with her, I feel like I’ve finally found my home. All I want to do is give her pleasure, make her feel happy and safe. When she touches me, it’s like she’s touching the very heart of me, Phoibe...I…” She tailed off, searching for the words.

“I enjoy being with her all the time. Not just when we’re making love. When we sit together in the evening, and she’s reading and I’m fixing arrows or something. Just being with her. Sitting quietly, enjoying her presence. And I admire Kyra, Phoibe. She’s had a really tough life and she’s worked hard to get over it, she still is. And she’s trying to make things better for other people. And she challenges me.”

“By throwing knives at your head?”

“That was just the once,” Kassandra gave her a squeeze. “No. I mean she’s not impressed by my reputation. She’s not in awe of me because of the stories. And I like that. She knows everything about me, the good bits and the bad bits.”

“You don’t have any bad bits,” Phoibe protested softly, hugging her arm.

“Really? Not even my letter writing?” she laughed “No, lots of people just see the character in the stories, but that’s not truly me and Kyra knows that. If I want to impress her, and I do, then I have to do it by...by being a better person somehow. And she’s helped me see that racing around killing massive beasts and “monster hunting” isn’t the only way to do that. Perhaps it’s not even the best way. Am I making any sense, Phoibe?” her question sounded sincere.

“Sort of, I suppose, I’m not sure, a bit.”

“You’ll understand better when-” Kassandra began.

“When I’m older,” Phoibe sighed wearily. “People are always saying that.”

“I know, I know,” Kassandra shook her head. “I didn’t much like hearing it when I was younger either. But sometimes it’s true.”

“I guess,” Phoibe’s voice sounded sleepy now and Kassandra felt her head growing heavy against her arm. “It’s like the fish sauce thing I suppose.”

There was a pause, during which Kassandra’s bemusement was almost palpable.

“Fish sauce? Do I want to know?” she sounded wary.

Phoibe gave a huge yawn and wriggled down comfortably with an air of finality.

“Selene and Clio were telling me about sex a bit ago. And I got all the man and woman stuff, the making babies business. It’s pretty straightforward no? Like goats.”

“Well,” Kassandra pursed her lips and frowned. “I sort of get what you’re saying. But I don’t know that Europa would be flattered by you talking like that about her and Adrian’s love being made manifest.”

“_ Now _ you decide to get all poetic,” Phoibe smiled. “And she likes goats, so she wouldn’t mind. Anyway, I was just talking about the mechanical bits. Where things go, all that stuff. Not the feelings. Two men sounded pretty straightforward too but women...women sounded a bit confusing at first to be honest.”

Oh gods, Kassandra thought, a chill running down her back, where was Selene when you needed her?

“What does any of this have to do with fish sauce?” she ventured cautiously.

“Ey?” Phoibe rubbed her sleepy eyes. “Oh, well Clio did her best I expect, but some of it. I don’t know. I didn’t get how some of it was supposed to feel good, or be fun. And she said it’s like that fermented fish sauce, you know the one?”

“I do indeed, but I’m still not-”

“Clio hated it when she was young, but as she got older turns out she really likes it. Europa hates it. Selene can take it or leave. Me? Just the smell makes me want to heave. But maybe I’ll like it when I get older, or not, or on some things, who knows,” her voice was becoming thick with sleep. “I guess I will...find out...when I’m older..” her voice tailed off. “I just wanted to know if that was it...if that’s why you think Kyra’s so...special...and I get that you think she’s wonderful but, I still don’t really understand... I don’t know if I like her yet.”

“Phoibe?” Kassandra stroked her hair softly with her free hand. “Ages ago a really smart girl told me that you shouldn’t make decisions about people until you’d tried to get to know them a bit. Remember that?” she felt Phoibe’s drowsy nod against her arm. 

“If you can do that, just give Kyra a chance, I think you’ll find out that you’ve got a lot in common. Much more than you think. She just wants a chance Phoibe. A chance for you to get to know each other. Do you think you can do that?”

“I s’pose so,” her voice was barely intelligible now as she fell into slumber. “I’ll try...for you...cos you…”

Kassandra waited to see if anything more would be forthcoming but Phoibe was quickly limp and heavy in her arms. She wriggled about, trying to get into a position where they could both be comfortable without her arm going to sleep.

The last thing she caught before drifting off was Phoibe’s voice, mumbling in her sleep. She leaned in close to try and hear what was barely a whisper.

“I love you, Kassandra.”

She hugged the sleeping girl a little tighter and pressed a kiss to her brow, blinking quickly to try and disperse the tears she felt welling. 

“Me too, little one. Me too.”

  
  



	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get this show on the road...the waves, at last.

Kassandra woke in what she assumed was the morning, to the sight of Phoibe examining a string of dried meat with a mournful expression.

“Phoibe?” she struggled into a sitting position, her back felt tight and prickly where she’d injured it the previous night.

“Oh. Kassandra!” she jumped a little. “Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t, my bladder did. What’s the trouble, little one?”

“I was going to get you something to eat, but…” she looked over towards the corner where she’d strung up the jerky. “Turns out it gets damp over there, I hadn’t realised.”

At the mention of food, Kassandra suddenly registered how hungry she was. They’d had nothing since the previous afternoon, unless Phoibe had found some less mouldy supplies to eat when she arrived. Kassandra somehow doubted it.

“Well I don’t know about you,” she got to her feet and examined her tunic. It had definitely seen better days now. “But I’m ravenous. Let’s get out of here and go rustle up some breakfast eh? How’s my back?”

Phoibe tossed the spoiled meat in the direction of the small latrine pit and turned her attention to Kassandra’s injuries.

“Scabby,” she declared. “But it’s not going to leave you any scars. Go pee and we can make a move,” she picked up her lantern and turned up the wick a bit.

“I was going to wait till we got outside,” Kassandra pulled on the tunic, inadvertently thrust her arm through one of the small tears and expanded it significantly. “You’re sure you don’t mind me peeing in your hideout?”

“_ I _ just did,” Phoibe shrugged, kicking some dirt over the corpse of the campfire. “It hardly matters, I’m not coming back any time soon.”

She sauntered over to the entrance and waited for Kassandra to join her. 

“Have you got everything you want to take?,” she asked, using the last of the contents of the water jug to wash her hands.

Phoibe thought for a moment, allowing her gaze to wander around the dim chamber.

“There’s nothing I want from here,” she said quietly, turning towards the entrance tunnel.

Kassandra patted her on the shoulder and followed her, she was not looking forward to the return journey.

“Come on,” she took hold of Kassandra’s hand. “It’s going to be better going back, I’ve got a lantern...and an idea.”

The idea turned out to be effective but undignified.

“Crawl,” Phoibe advised when they reached the bottle neck. “It’s way wider at the bottom, see?” she waved the lantern around making shadows dance on the walls.

She was right, of course, Kassandra realised. She could have worked it out herself last night if she’d had more light and less panic. It wasn’t just wider however, it was a good deal more lively, and outside in the bright sunlight they spent a few minutes shaking centipedes and spiders from her tunic and braid.

“Never, _ never _ invite Clio down there,” Kassandra gave everything a final shake.

“I’m not likely to now,” Phoibe had extinguished the lantern and placed it inside the entrance. “Are there caves on Mykonos?” she asked as they set off for Sami.

“Absolutely,” Kassandra gave a wry smile. “Kyra was in a huge one when I met her.”

“When she tried to kill you?” Phoibe gave her a sidelong glance.

“That’s a massive exaggeration, she was just trying to put the wind up me."

Phoibe gave a disapproving sniff and stopped by a pile of loose branches. It turned out to be where she’d stowed the bows and quivers the previous night. The cover had kept some but not all of the rain off.

“Sorry,” she tipped Kassandra’s quiver upside down and gave her an apologetic smile as a trickle of water ran out. “But there was no way I was getting them down that tunnel last night.”

“Fair point,” Kassandra didn’t feel she was in any position to criticize, not least because she’d totally forgotten about them. She took the bundle from Phoibe and slung everything effortlessly onto her shoulder.

“We should get breakfast for everyone,” Phoibe’s stomach grumbled in complaint. “Then we can all eat together no? And I can tell them about me going with you to...wait... do they know? Have you already told them? Is that why Clio was being all weird yesterday? Oh.”

She fell quiet, looking down at her feet as they walked.

“I’m going to miss them,” she said quietly after a while.

“I know,” Kassandra nodded. “I miss all of you when I’m away, but you learn to deal with it, and after a while you can just think about the good times you had together without getting too sad.”

“They’re going to miss me too, aren’t they?” she glanced up, looking a little weepy. 

“A lot,” Kassandra conceded, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. “But they’ll learn to deal with it too. And remember Phoibe, whenever you want to come visit, Barnabas will drop what he’s doing and set sail. And if you give it a solid try and decide you don’t like it, I’ll bring you back myself.”

“And I can write to them, there’s ships come to Mykonos?” she looked up hopefully. 

“All the time,” Kassandra nodded, “many more than to Kephallonia.”

Naturally enough Phoibe was unable to keep her news to herself as they shopped for breakfast. Kassandra knew that she was well loved and whilst everyone made a solid attempt to share her excitement there was a fair amount of sadness accompanying the hugs.

“I am going to miss you little one,” Sophitia made no effort to hide her tears as she knelt down and held Phoibe to her ample bosom. “Who’s going to keep me company of a morning now?”

“Tzatziki?” Phoibe suggested tearfully, as the cat sashayed up to see what the problem was.

“The hell it will,” Sophitia got to her feet and rummaged in her cleavage for her hankie. “I only tolerate the damn thing because you love it,” she laughed sadly. “In fact why don’t you take it with you?” she watched as it wound its way between Phoibe’s legs, meeping quizzically. “As a leaving present?”

“Can we, Kassandra?” Phoibe brightened a little.

“Well,” she was eyeing it and rubbing the back of her neck thoughtfully. “Thyia is on the lookout for a ship’s cat. But it's not really yours to give away is it?” she gave Sophitia a look.

“The bloody thing would starve if it wasn’t forever scrounging off Phoibe and stealing my fish,” she laughed. “If_ I _ can’t send it packing I don’t know who can. And listen _ you _,” she pointed a finger in Kassandra’s direction, looking stern. “You look after this one,” she placed a gentle hand behind Phoibe’s head. “Don’t make me have to-”

“Come kick my ass, along with Clio. There’s a queue forming to do that,” Kassandra nodded. “You have my word. And it’s not like it’s the last time you’ll ever see her.”

“No, I’ll come visit,” Phoibe clasped Sophitia’s hand. “And I’ll write, I’ll put a note in for you every time I write to Selene, I promise.”

“Well,” she sounded a bit hesitant. “I’m not a great one for reading and writing really. I mean, I can a bit.”

“That’s fine,” Phoibe wasn’t discouraged. “Selene will read it to you, and you can tell her stuff for me and she’ll put it in her letters. And I’ll send you pictures!” she added brightly.

“Well I _ do _ like a picture,” Sophitia nodded, giving it some consideration. “And it would be interesting to know what sort of fish they have round the Silver Islands.” 

“Done!” Phoibe beamed. “I’ll go to the docks there and draw them all for you, deal?”

“Deal!” she mustered a smile and shot a look at Kassandra who was standing watching them both with a wistful expression. “And visit, don’t forget!”

“I won’t,” Phoibe held up her arms for another hug. “Promise.”

Their growing load of groceries was proving awkward to carry by now. Sophitia found an empty sack under the counter and helped pack things away. 

“We can go drop these bows on the Adrestia,” Kassandra decided. “And we should let Barnabas know that you’re safe and sound,” she thought suddenly, feeling guilty that they’d been sauntering along eating peaches whilst he was no doubt pacing the deck fretting.

It turned out that he wasn’t the only one concerned about Phoibe’s safety. Gelon was sitting on the topmost spar and had spotted their approach from a way off. Odessa and Thyia were sitting on the rail, a bag of dates lying untouched between them.

“At fucking last!” Gelon’s bellow roused them and sent Barnabas literally sprinting from the helm, down the gangplank to sweep Phoibe up in his arms.

“Oh praise the gods,” he rocked her to and fro, her attempts at apology muffled against his chest. “Basileos” he yelled over his shoulder. “Go get a goat, quickly man, we need to make an offering.”

“Venison _ and _ a goat,” Odessa grinned as he put Phoibe down and spun her through a full three hundred and sixty degree turn to check her for injuries. “You should go missing more often, little one,” she turned on her perch and gave Phoibe an affable grin.

“Odessa!” Thyia delivered a hard punch to her shoulder. "Are you all right, Phoibe? We we all frantic. Even her," she cocked her head at Odessa, who was rubbing her arm ruefully

“Yes,” Phoibe had the good grace to look abashed about the whole thing. “I’m sorry I worried everyone.”

“You’re all right though,” Barnabas smooshed her cheeks firmly between his weather worn palms and pressed a relieved kiss to her forehead. “That’s all that matters. I’m going with Basileos to get this goat, he’ll just pick the biggest one. It’s quality not quantity when you’re thanking the gods, I’m forever telling him,” he announced, just as Gelon slid down the rigging with unexpected grace and came rushing over.

“Where the fuck have you been, you little bugger, we were worried shitless about you,” she more or less repeated Barnabas’ performance, completely oblivious to Kassandra’s tutting in the background.

“I’m sorry Gelon, I wasn’t thinking about how worried everyone would be,” Phoibe looked down embarrassed. “I was upset and I just went running off.”

“Was it this great useless bastard?” Gelon threw out an arm in Kassandra’s direction. “Did _ she _ upset you?”

“Gelon!” Barnabas turned back, outraged. “A little respect, the commander is not useless.”

“Was it this great _ tactless _ bastard?” she corrected. “Did she say something to upset you?”

“I don’t know why you immediately assume it was me,” Kassandra sounded a little wounded.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Phoibe settled diplomatically. “But the exciting thing is, I’m coming back with you, back to Mykonos.”

Despite everyone having been fully aware of the reason behind the trip they made a convincing show of excitement.

“Will it be all right if I sleep with you, Gelon?” Phoibe piped up, to Kassandra’s surprise. She hadn’t even thought about where they were going to house her for the duration of the trip, but it seemed that Phoibe had been giving it consideration on the walk over. “I promise not to be any trouble, and if you need time alone I can go and stay with Kassandra for a bit.”

“Of course you fucking can,” Gelon ruffled her hair fondly. “All that time together, we’ll be able to get my quilt finished at last.”

“I’ve had an idea about the border,” Phoibe bubbled happily, “what about crabs and coral?”

“Just a minute,” Kassandra interrupted. “Where’s this come from all of a sudden?”

“What? Crabs and coral? It needs something bright that we can repeat.”

“No. Imposing yourself on poor Gelon?”

“Well you and Kyra are already sharing a single cabin and Odessa got in trouble for teaching me to gamble that time, so?”

“She has a point,” Odessa shrugged. “Though gods know I learned my lesson there.”

Kassandra gave it some silent consideration as she shifted the bows and quivers from her shoulder and held them out for Phoibe.

“Do me a favour would you and put these in my cabin, please? And see if there’s a spare tunic knocking about?” She waited until Phoibe was out of earshot before turning to Gelon. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? It’s a long voyage to have her in your cabin, and she can talk the ears off a donkey when she gets going. We can always sort out something else if you think it’s too much.”

“And what was _ your _ fucking plan then? Have her curl up in a rope coil like a bloody kitten?” Gelon’s question was reasonable enough and Kassandra’s guilty grimace said as much. “It’ll be no bother. I like the bloody kid, she’s a little diamond.”

Gelon shook her head as Phoibe came skipping back on deck, swinging a clean tunic in her hand. “It’ll be nice to have some fucking company for a while. I’m not sure you’ll get all your worldly belongings in my cabin mind you, youngster.”

“There’s not that much really,” Phoibe considered, tossing the tunic to Kassandra. “And most of it can go below decks, no?” she gave Odessa a questioning look.

“Of course. We’ll squeeze it in somewhere safe,” she reached out and ruffled her hair. “Don’t you worry about any of that Phoibe. We’ll get it all sorted out for you.”

“Will I be able to bring my bear skin Odessa?” it suddenly occurred to Phoibe. “It’s big.”

“We’ll have that in our cabin, little one,” Gelon patted her shoulder. “We can have a bit of comfort while we work. I’m going to the dressmaker’s later on, choose some threads. Why don’t you come with me? See what colours you want for these corals you’re thinking of.”

As Kassandra changed out of her ruined tunic it dawned on her that there was something she needed to mention. Phoibe didn’t even travel on the Adrestia regularly and yet she knew space was at a premium.

“Odessa?” she began cautiously. 

There was enough wheedle in her tone for both Odessa and Thyia to eye her with varying degrees of suspicion.

“What the hell is it this time?” Odessa folded her arms. “We are not having any more bear cubs on board, I told you after the last time!”

Phoibe gave Kassandra a look of outraged disbelief.

“Bear cubs!? How come you never told me the bear cub story?”

“Later,” Kassandra held up a silencing hand. “It’s not as exciting as it sounds.”

“Says the woman who didn’t end up with a bunk full of bear crap!” Odessa protested. 

“It’s not bear cubs,” Kassandra gave an expansive shrug. “There aren’t even any bears on Kephallonia.”

“Not anymore,” Phoibe observed proudly.

“No wildlife, of any description,” Odessa shook her head. “And Barnabas will back me up.”

“Well good news then,” Kassandra grinned broadly. “It’s just wine!”

“Wine?” Odessa cocked an eyebrow. “We’re taking wine from this shithole, begging your pardon Phoibe, to the Silver Islands? I’ve heard it all now.” 

“How _ much _ wine?” Thyia asked suspiciously.

“Hmm?” Kassandra shot her an evasive smile.

“Aye, good point,” Gelon grinned. “How much fucking wine?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet,” Kassandra admitted. “I need to check with Kyra. I’ll get back to you with the details.”

Odessa rolled her eyes and sighed.

“You know, I knew that bloody woman would end up biting me in the ass."

“Oh hush! We will manage to accommodate your cargo Commander,” Thyia cut her off before she could launch into further complaint. “I’m sure of that. And _ your _bearskin and whatever else you need to bring sweetheart,” she cradled Phoibe’s cheek and gave her a wink. “Don’t you worry about anything. Let us know when you’ve got all your things packed, and we’ll come and collect them.”

“Aye,” Gelon nodded. “You just concentrate on enjoying the voyage.”

“We can sort all that later,” Kassandra waved Phoibe over. “We need to get back, let the others know that you’re safe. Come on,” she hefted the grocery sack.

At Selene’s all was quiet. Having polished off a flask of hydromeli between them, Selene and Kyra had eventually fallen asleep on the couch, Kyra curled up with her head in Selene’s lap. Iva was sitting on the couch opposite, chewing distractedly at a thumbnail as Clio paced.

“I wish you’d sit down darling,” Iva sighed, “you’re making me-”

The door swung open at this point and Kassandra strode in, urging a shamefaced Phoibe in front of her. Before she could even begin an apology she found herself tight in Clio’s arms, her head pressed against her breasts as she stroked her hair.

“Thank the gods little one, are you all right? You aren’t hurt are you?” she cradled Phoibe’s cheeks in her hands and kissed her hard. “We were so worried.”

“I know. I’m so sorry,” Phoibe looked suitably chastened. “I got upset and I didn’t think.”

“That’s what comes of hanging round with Kassandra, you see,” Clio teased.

“I can’t help feeling I’m getting blamed for an unfair portion of things. Though considering the number of breasts you’ve found yourself face first in this morning Phoibe, you could do a lot worse than hang around with me,” she gave her a playful wink, just as a low groan from across the room announced that Selene and Kyra were waking up.

“You’re sure that you’re okay?” Iva was kneeling on the couch, looking over the back at Phoibe. Acknowledging her apologetic nod she gave her a smile. “Thank goodness Kassandra knew exactly where to find you eh?” she reached out and stroked her cheek gently.

Gazing across the room Kassandra watched with fond amusement as Kyra realised where she was lying, and flushed with embarrassment made to sit up, only to stop suddenly half way clutching her head and groaning.

“Tired sweetheart?” she smirked, watching her re-attempt the process more slowly, wincing at the sunlight pouring in through the open door.

Selene was presumably feeling just as fragile but forgot all about it on spotting Phoibe. She held out her arms to her, smiling tearfully and no sooner had she run over than she swept her into her lap, hugging her tightly and pressing kisses to her head.

“It’s all right sweetheart, it’s all right,” she dismissed her apologies, rocking her slowly and resting her face against her hair, breathing in her scent. “You’re here now, and you’re safe and that’s all that matters.”

“Not quite all,” Kyra said quietly, swallowing painfully as she reached out and tentatively took Phoibe’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry Phoibe,” she stroked her knuckles with her thumb. “I’m so sorry. I had no business shouting at you like that. Especially not for something that wasn’t your fault. I hope you can forgive me at some point. I’m just so glad that you’re here and safe, that Kassandra found you.”

Phoibe looked over at her. She looked weary and a bit red eyed, and definitely apologetic. For her part, buoyed by the exciting news and the general mood of forgiveness and relief, she was inclined to be magnanimous. Besides, she’d promised Kassandra that she would try to get on with Kyra, that she would at least give her a chance.

“It’s okay,” she smiled. “We were all a bit upset about the whole setting a deer on fire thing.” She missed the hugely bemused looks the others were casting at Kassandra. “And I could probably have been a bit less...bouncy I think. We could...forget it maybe?” she ventured, shooting a quick hopeful glance over at Kassandra. 

She was smiling fondly at both of them and gave Phoibe an appreciative nod and a swift thumbs up as she raised the bag she was holding.

“And, as a peace offering,” she gave it a little shake.

“We brought breakfast for everyone,” Phoibe finished brightly.

The remainder of their stay mainly involved Kassandra taking Phoibe around the island to make her goodbyes to friends who lived outside of Sami. With one notable exception.

On their final evening they were ambling back from the Widow Agape’s farm, Phoibe carefully cradling a cake she’d been given as a parting gift.

The sun was sinking, and a warm breeze was whispering over the hills, but Phoibe was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Well, you’re going to be so busy writing letters for people here that you’ll barely have time to explore Mykonos,” Kassandra nudged the ball into Phoibe’s court and waited. There was no response beyond a polite chuckle and a nod, but a little while later she caught her head dart to the side as they passed the path to the vineyard.

It happened a couple more times before the turn off was behind them and Kassandra could hold fire no longer.

“Phoibe?” she put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “If you want to go and say goodbye to Markos, that’s all right. We can go now.”

Phoibe looked down at her feet as they walked, at a snail’s pace now.

“He said we shouldn’t go back until we were ready to apologise,” she said at last, so quietly that Kassandra had to dip her head a little to hear her.

“Look, little one,” she sighed, caressing her shoulder gently. “We can go. I’ll say sorry. He wasn’t talking about you.”

They’d slowed almost to a standstill by now and there was a pause before Phoibe replied.

“You wouldn’t mean it though, would you?”

“Well I wouldn’t be apologising for me, _ or _ him,” she conceded. “I’d be doing it for you Phoibe, so you could leave on good terms with him.”

“So you’d be lying?” she glanced up and saw Kassandra’s awkward grimace as she considered this. “For me?” she looked back down to the path and increased her pace a shade. “I don’t want you to lie for me. Not like that. Come on, let’s get back and share this cake.”

Kassandra stopped for a moment and looked back over her shoulder, the moon was bright and she could make out the borders of the vineyard some way up the hill.

The cake turned out to be delicious, as always, but no one was really in any mood to do it full justice. In the end Kassandra and Kyra went to bed, leaving the others downstairs with Phoibe, sitting on the couches, drinking and reminiscing until at last she fell asleep curled up next to Selene, her head in her lap.

The sun was up by the time Kassandra ambled sleepily downstairs, yawning and absent-mindedly scratching her ass. Selene looked up as she reached the foot of the stairs and stood watching them.

“Is it time?” she asked, quietly.

“There’s no rush,” Kassandra found she was having to work to control her voice. “The crew will be loading supplies yet. Let her sleep a bit longer.”

She heard Kyra padding softly down the stairs, stopping behind her and glanced back. She was fidgeting unnecessarily with the shoulder of her chiton and surveying the scene in the main room.

“Got everything?” Kassandra reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. It was merely to have something to say, she already knew the answer. All their belongings had been taken aboard the previous day. They had nothing to take to the docks but themselves.

“I’ll go sort out some breakfast,” Iva sounded weary as she got to her feet, patting Clio’s shoulder as she left for the kitchen.

It took some effort but with Kassandra’s assistance Selene managed to move Phoibe into an easier position to lift and somehow got to her feet with her in her arms. Phoibe grumbled in her sleep and clung onto Selene’s neck, nuzzling her face into her hair, murmuring to herself.

They’d been sitting for a while, picking disconsolately at bread and cheese, making awkward small talk when Phoibe woke. She looked incredibly young as she blinked sleepily and rubbed at her eyes with the back of a curled hand before realizing where she was and what was happening.

She cried for a while, rocked in Selene’s arms as she stroked her hair and crooned softly to her. Clio made an impressive attempt to raise spirits and Kassandra gave her a grateful smile, knowing she would feel it later.

At last though, they gave up on the pretense that anyone had any sort of appetite and abandoned breakfast to make their way down to the docks.

Whether by accident or design Markos had arranged for the casks of wine to arrive long before sun up. Odessa generally oversaw cargo deliveries and was dragged, weary and irritable from the warm comfort of Thyia’s arms to deal with it.

Kyra had left very strict instructions about how the barrels were to be handled before stowing, and Odessa muttered to herself as she lit a number of lanterns and began the tedious task of uncorking, extracting a small sample from each barrel and then re-closing them with the addition of a wax seal.

She was partway through when the creaking of the gangplank announced Gelon’s arrival, yawning and stretching expansively.

“Well you’ve got a face on you like a slapped arse this morning,” she observed affably, sauntering over and eyeing Odessa’s handwork. “What’s up? Grumpy cos you didn’t get your fucking end away first thing?”

“I don’t like any of this,” Odessa stood upright and eyed the row of casks.

“It’s just a few wine barrels. I shifted the stowed sails over to make room yesterday. Well I _ had _ them shifted over, fuck if I was going to do _ that _ myself,” she laughed. 

“It’s not the storage,” Odessa frowned. “And these aren’t just _ any _ old wine casks are they?” she tapped one of the obscured maker’s marks with the hilt of her dagger. “These belong to a woman who would have us dismembered if she thought we were sampling her wine on the sly.”

“Calm the fuck down, you jumpy little bugger, we’re not sampling her wine on the sly, are we?” Gelon picked up one of the samples and sniffed it experimentally.

“Put that down!” Odessa barked. “I’ve taken the bare minimum.”

“All right, all right, don’t wet yourself,” Gelon put it back down and raised her hands in playful apology. 

“I bloody knew that woman would -” Odessa began but Gelon cut her off sharply, pressing her finger to her lips and shushing.

“Shut the fuck up for a minute,” she hissed, cupping her ear. “Shush! Do you hear that?” she frowned in concentration.

Odessa held her breath, straining her ears. Beyond the muffled grumbling of crew-members waking, and the slap of the water against the hull she could hear nothing.

“What?” she whispered, leaning into Gelon’s side and gripping her dagger more firmly.

“It’s the sound of Odysseus rolling in his fucking grave,” Gelon laughed and punched her arm. “Calm your bloody self,” she grinned at Odessa’s huff of outrage. “We’re taking the woman’s wine _ back _ to her, and Korax is Kyra’s fucking mate, no? We’re golden.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Odessa was unimpressed. “But wasn’t that last bloke Korax’s mate too? Right up to the point where his head went bouncing along his brother’s supper table? I happen to be very attached to my head. And so is Thyia.”

“What am I attached to?” Thyia appeared at the top of the gangplank and stopped for a moment to survey the scene. “This looks like more than it sounded somehow?”

“And that, lovely, is why your woman oversees the fucking cargo and not you. Happen it’s because you’ve only the one eye eh?” Gelon winked. “Now come and calm her the fuck down would you? Stroke her soothingly or some shit. She’s worried Korax is going to creep into her fucking bunk in the night and separate her from her pretty head.”

“That would be a tragedy,” Thyia ambled down the gangplank, adjusting her eye-patch and sauntered over to Odessa. “A real tragedy. But you’d still have your hands,” she grinned, grabbing the one that wasn’t clutching a dagger and pressing it to her crotch with a playful smile.

“And they’d be no use to either of us without my head,” Odessa made a reasonable point. “I knew that bloody woman was going to be trouble, the minute she strutted up the gangplank looking like she owned the place,” she muttered.

“Which bloody woman?” Thyia frowned, catching Gelon’s eye as she mouthed “Kyra”. “Oh give it a rest about Kyra would you,” she sighed. “Whether you like her or not makes very little difference to be honest. Kassandra is clearly in love with her.”

“We didn’t have to deal with shit like this when she was just getting her leg over bar maids and hetaerae,” she grumbled.

“There is no “shit like this”, love,” Thyia perched carefully on one of the casks. “We’re doing a favour for an old friend of Kyra’s and no-one is getting parted from their head, because they go back to the rebellion together. They have a friendship forged in blood or something.”

“Yeah, well I’m just concerned about _ whose _ blood is all,” Odessa muttered, prying open another cask.

“Cheer up, tiny,” Gelon slapped her back firmly. “We’ll give you a hand, get this fucking stuff racked away and then we can go get some breakfast. Check in with Sophitia maybe? Get some fucking fish and admire the scenery for one last time,” she winked.

Gelon’s plans for breakfast and a show were scuppered. Sophitia hadn’t opened her stall by the time they’d finished sealing the casks. She was perched on a mooring post waiting to make her goodbyes.

The Adrestia’s departures by now generally drew only the barest of curiosity, but today the place was crowded with onlookers eager to wave goodbye to Phoibe. She wandered down to the docks between Selene and Clio, holding their hands and doing her best to put on a brave face.

“There you go little one,” Sophitia gave her a long hug and pressed a cloth bag into her hand. “Some dried squid, in case you get peckish...oh and, gods, I nearly forgot,” she picked up a wicker basket that she’d placed by the mooring post. “Your cat!”

Tzatziki gave a quick meep of recognition and tucked her face into her flank, going back to sleep.

“Let me,” Kassandra took the basket and the bag. “I’ll go introduce her to Thyia.”

“Phoibe!” Barnabas’ delighted voice broke through the melancholy. “There you are. Excited for your first big sea voyage?” he came bounding down the gangplank, but recognized the mood as he approached and softened his tone.

“Oh come now,” he crouched down and cradled her cheek in his rough palm. “No tears now. It’s always sad to leave friends, it’s the burden of the sailor. But then we get the joy of seeing them again,” he got to his feet and gave Selene a gentle smile.

“Brave heart, lovely lady,” he bent his head and rested his brow against hers. “I will look after this child as if she were my own, and I’ll drag her back with me every time I visit if I have to,” he winked down at Phoibe. “Though, I don’t think I’ll have to. And look, Phoibe,” he threw wide an arm. “Everyone has come to see you off.”

_ Almost _ everyone thought Kassandra, making her way back down to the dock and casting her gaze across the gathered groups. 

Odessa was supervising the moving of the casks, grumbling resentfully as Kyra hovered about checking each sample before releasing the corresponding barrel.

It was always sad to leave, Kassandra reflected. To stand in the stern waving goodbye to her family and friends. She’d blithely assumed it would be easier this time, with Phoibe in tow, but looking at her now, clinging onto a handful of Selene’s skirts just like she had as a little girl she felt her heart clenching painfully.

Barnabas had been standing with the small group, stroking Phoibe’s head gently and doing his best to raise spirits a little, when movement some distance along the path caught his eye. He glanced up, wondering who was arriving so late and his jaw dropped as an unexpected figure came trotting towards them.

Startling everyone, Barnabas abruptly launched into a run, lips drawn into a stern line, his eyes blazing. He thundered up to Markos, intercepting him well before he could reach the dock. They were of a more or less similar height, and Markos was younger than Barnabas, but the older man was fitter and stronger and it was very evident when they stood face to face like this. 

Markos drew back anxiously, raising his arms in a defensive gesture that fell flat as Barnabas grabbed hold of a great fistful of his tunic and hauled him close till they were practically nose to nose.

“What in the name of Tartarus do you think you’re doing here?” he snarled, his good eye flaring. “Turn right round and get yourself back to your den of thievery before my girls see you and get upset,” he gave him a shove, sending him rocking back on his heels.

“They’re _ my _ girls too, Barnabas,” Markos smoothed down his crumpled tunic. It was a futile endeavor because Barnabas had him by the tunic again immediately.

“Don’t you dare!” he hissed, teeth bared. “Don’t you dare stand there in front of me and have the gall to say that.”

“Please, no please, Barnabas,” Markos winced. Barnabas had a good deal of his chest hair caught in his fist. “I haven’t come to cause trouble, I swear.”

“You swear?” his eyebrows headed for his hairline. “And what’s your word worth? About half a wet shit, Markos. Get home. No one wants you here.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, broken at last by the sound of Markos swallowing thickly.

“I’m begging you,” he placed his hands gently over Barnabas’ fist. “I just want to say goodbye to Phoibe. Please? Please Barnabas. I know I’ve been an idiot and I don’t deserve it, but please, you’re a good man, I’m begging you. Just let me say goodbye to her. Or try to at least. I...I have something for her, please?”

“What is it? A bill for her keep?” Barnabas sneered.

Markos winced and lowered his eyes, licking his lips nervously before trying again.

“All right. I deserved that,” he nodded. “No, no. It’s something _ for _ her. Something I owe her,” he looked up desperately and Barnabas saw that his eyes were bright with tears. “Please Barnabas. Let me at least try. Let me offer it to her and if she doesn’t want it, if she doesn’t want to say goodbye to me then at least let it be her decision. Don’t make it for her.”

Barnabas loosened his grip enough that he could turn and look over his shoulder back to the dock. Phoibe was holding Selene’s hand, but had turned to look at them, he couldn’t quite make out her expression. But looming behind her, Kassandra’s body language was clearly decipherable.

“All right,” he took a huge breath. “Go make your goodbyes then. But I swear to you, if you upset that little girl, I won’t be able to get to you quickly enough to kick you into the dock, because Kassandra will throw you in from right where she’s standing.”

“Yes, I see that,” Markos followed his gaze. “Thank you Barnabas,” he neatened his chiton.

“Don’t thank me,” he scowled. “I’m only doing it because perhaps Phoibe _ does _ want to say goodbye. She’s a better person than you after all.”

Markos swallowed his pride and made his way nervously down towards the little group by the ship. Phoibe came to meet him part way, and he could see Kassandra, taut with concern, fists clenched, making to follow her, but Selene put out a hand and took hold of her forearm, stopping her.

“Hello there Phoibe,” Markos cleared his throat, his voice sounded rough and squeaky to him. “I was worried for a bit there,” he managed a smile. “I thought I was going to miss you. I had to run,” he patted his belly theatrically. “Imagine that eh?”

“Hello Markos,” she looked a bit tearful, but he didn’t want to flatter himself that it wasn’t residual emotion from saying goodbye to the others. “I’m glad you came,” she gave him a watery smile.

“As if I’d miss you setting off on your great adventure at last,” he flung out his arms. “Setting sail on that magnificent ship,” he nodded. “Have you got some mint?” he asked. “For your tummy? In case it’s a bit rough? I could go get you some?” he glanced about at the assembled groups, many of whom were eyeing him with suspicion. “If anyone is still at their stalls,” he finished weakly.

“Kassandra says there’s lots on board, and the healer makes these pill things that help if you get sick,” she nodded, digging her toes into the dirt. “So, I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking though.”

“Not at all. I’m pleased to hear that. I’m not much of a sailor myself, but I expect _ you _ will be,” he nodded. “You take after Kassandra. Oh!” he made as if he’d suddenly recalled something. “I have, let me just,” he rummaged in his pocket. “I have something for you,” he pulled out a fat coin purse and crouched down with it held out in his hand.

Phoibe eyed it suspiciously, then looked up at him, her expression dubious.

“What is it?” she cocked an eyebrow.

“It’s your wages,” he nodded at it, sensing Kassandra drawing slowly closer. “I realised that I owed you quite a bit of back pay,” he pushed it towards her hopefully. “And now’s the perfect time, no?”

“I don’t want it, thank you,” she drew her hands back and shook her head. “You don’t owe me wages. I didn’t do things for you for money,” she sounded wounded. “I did them because I thought we were friends.”

“We _ are _ friends!” he protested. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. But friends can work with each other, share the earnings no?” he glanced up and caught Kassandra’s eyes. She was standing a few paces behind them watching him, gimlet eyed. He gave her a pleading look.

“You’re going to be living on Mykonos now,” he swallowed. “It’s much bigger and more expensive than Kephallonia. Isn’t that right, Kassandra? You’ll need some money in your pocket when you get there. A little seed money in case you spot some interesting business opportunities, eh?”

Phoibe looked from his hand to his tearfully optimistic expression.

“I’m going to miss you Phoibe,” he said quietly, surprising himself. “It’ll be lonely on that vineyard without you.”

Phoibe paused for a moment and then threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close.

“I’ll miss you too Markos,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his whiskery cheek. “I can write you letters from Mykonos if you like?”

“I would,” he brushed his hand awkwardly across his eyes. “I’d like that very much. And a drawing now and again, perhaps? That would be nice. In fact, there you go,” he pressed the coin purse into her reluctant hands. “To buy parchment and chalks and things, no?”

“Take it, Phoibe,” Kassandra said quietly. “You’ve earned it. There’s no shame in taking what you’ve earned, you know that.”

“Okay,” she said, hesitantly. “Thank you Markos.” she looked up at him. “Perhaps you could get a dog? To keep you company? It would help you make friends.”

“So would not being an asshole,” Kassandra muttered under her breath.

“That’s an idea,” he patted Phoibe’s cheek as he got to his feet. “I’ll think about that. You should be going now, I expect,” he wiped his hand across his beard, where a few errant tears had gathered. “Safe travels little one. And don’t forget to come see me when you visit?”

“I won’t,” she looked back over her shoulder as she made her way back to the ship, giving him a little wave.

“Thank you Kassandra,” he avoided her eyes. “For letting me have that.”

“It was for Phoibe,” she said quietly, watching carefully as he took a few steps towards where Selene stood. Sophitia was beside her with a comforting arm around her shoulders and she gave him a wary look as he approached.

“Well…” he began, trying to catch Selene’s eye. “Word had reached me that you grew more beautiful with every passing year.” He sensed Sophitia rolling her eyes dramatically, Kassandra looming darkly by his shoulder. “And whilst I didn’t doubt it, it’s quite another thing to see it with my own eyes.”

There was a gull sitting on a nearby mooring post and he suspected that he would get more response from that than he was receiving from Selene.

“Anyway,” he took a deep breath. “It’s good to see that you’ve been keeping so well. This one eh?” he waved an airy hand in Phoibe’s direction. “They grow up overnight, no?”

He lingered there hopefully for a few more moments before slapping his hands on his thighs.

“Well, I can’t be hanging around here all day. I’ve work to do. Business calls,” he turned to leave, but paused for a moment. “Thank you Selene,” he said quietly. “For getting word to me that Phoibe was leaving with them. Bless you for that.”

There was an uncomfortable pause before he began to leave.

Selene’s eyes were locked on the ship. “It would have been a long time for her to have regretted not saying goodbye, Markos. But... thank you for coming.”

“I understand,” he nodded sadly. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” it was evident that he wasn’t going to hear anything else. “Well,” he brightened his tone as he passed Kassandra. “You take care of Phoibe, mind,” he wagged his finger at her. “Better care than I took of you,” he added quietly.

Kassandra had been taken aback to find herself feeling a shade emotional about Markos’ goodbye, but she was fully expecting Selene’s final parting to be awful. 

It was worse.

She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she could remember Selene openly weeping, but as she knelt on the dock, clutching Phoibe to her, she abandoned any semblance of dignity, sobbing loudly and cradling her head against her neck. 

Clio’s attempt at keeping spirits together had died as soon as the shouts to cast off rang out and she was crying in Iva’s arms now, one hand gently caressing the back of Phoibe’s neck.

Eventually Sophitia and Kassandra had to carefully prise them apart. Sophitia helped Selene to her feet and eased her into an expansive embrace as Kassandra hauled Phoibe up onto her hip and carried her up the gangplank and to the stern, clinging on like a little monkey.

“Here we go,” she helped her down, hiccuping and sniffing. “If you stand over to this side, you’ll be able to see them for longest. It’s where I stand to wave to you when I leave.”

The dock was bustling now, crew members were rushing back and forth, shouting instructions, making final adjustments.

“I don’t want Markos’ money,” Phoibe’s voice was just a whisper.

“I understand,” Kassandra nodded kindly. “But it’s really not his money. It’s yours.” She searched for a tack that might cheer her up. “And he’s right, things _ are _ more expensive on Mykonos. You don’t need to pay your way obviously, but imagine,” she waved a hand before Phoibe’s eyes. 

“You’re walking through the agora and you see something! What a handsome scarf, you think. And I know just _ who _ would look handsome wearing it! And it’s Kassandra’s birthday in just a couple of weeks. I can hardly ask her to buy her own present, can I? Oh wait! I’ve got that money that - “

“All right, all right,” Phoibe laughed through her tears. “I get the idea. But I don’t need it while I’m on board.”

“That’s true,” Kassandra smiled. “Barnabas isn’t going to charge you for passage. Though I’m a bit surprised he isn’t charging the rest of us for the privilege of sailing with you,” she was pleased to see Phoibe mustering a smile as she held out the coin purse to her. “You want me to put this somewhere safe till we get home...to our new home?” she amended, surprising herself with just how much it did feel like a return to her.

On her way back from stowing Phoibe’s coin in her cabin Kassandra heard Kyra and Odessa having what sounded like a rather heated discussion about securing the wine casks. She was about to go and intervene when Gelon shouted for her.

“Come and lend me a bit of fucking muscle will you, quickly?” she waved her over. “There’s a loose cleat here, I just need an extra pair of hands. Strong ones.”

“I was just going to -” she gestured in the direction of the raised voices.

Gelon cocked an ear for a moment and laughed.

“Oh leave them to it, they’ll sort it out between them. Unless you’re worried they’ll end up hate-fucking on Xenia’s sails? In which case we’ll both go and watch. Till then, this is more fucking important. I don’t want this sodding thing flying loose and taking someone’s eye out. Especially given the number of one eyed fuckers you’ve already recruited. What is it with you and bloody Cyclops? And why do we keep Xenia’s fucking sails on board all the time, by the way? They’re a bastard and a half to shift when we need space.”

“In case an emergency arises,” Kassandra followed her gestures of instruction. “A pirate emergency,” she smirked seeing Gelon’s raised eyebrows. “And while I think about it. I don’t suppose there’s any point at all in asking you to moderate your language while Phoibe’s with you, is there?”

“Not a fucking bit,” Gelon stood back and surveyed their work with a satisfied smile. “Good job, commander,” she slapped Kassandra’s bicep. “That fucker’s going nowhere any time soon now,” she followed her rather wistful gaze to the stern where Phoibe stood.

She was still waving, even though by now she could certainly not make out any figures on the shoreline. Kassandra brushed her hands together and took a deep breath before turning in the direction of the stern, but Gelon reached out and placed a hand gently but quite firmly on her forearm.

“Let me,” she gave her a quick wink. “She’s my fucking bunk-mate now. Her well-being is my responsibility till we get to Mykonos. Then you can have her back.”

“Are you sure?” Kassandra gave her a wry look.

“We’ll see, I suppose,” she laughed. “Don’t worry you big, soft bastard, I’ll sort her out. You should go see what’s going on below decks, with your current and your ex,” she nodded. “Things have gone _ very _ fucking quiet all of a sudden, maybe _ they’re _ sorting things out?” she teased. 

Phoibe heard footsteps approaching and rubbed her eyes briskly on the back of her hand before turning. She was surprised to see Gelon coming to join her with two cups in her hands.

“Toast to Kephallonia youngster,” she handed over a cup. Phoibe caught a hint of wine and began to protest a little. “It’s ninety percent water, little one, I’m not after having the commander chuck me over the side for corrupting youth. Come on,” she nudged her gently. “Share a drink with me, we’re having a moment here, woman to woman.”

She raised her cup in the direction of the receding shore.

“Farewell to Kephallonia, a shithole full of goats and some surprisingly lovely people. Till we see you again.”

They sipped in silence for a few moments, leaning on the rail and watching the island grow smaller and smaller.

“The commander’s worried about you, you know,” Gelon said quietly. “Great soft hearted bugger that she is, though she tries to pretend she’s not.”

“I know,” Phoibe smiled, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her tunic. “It’s because she’s a Spartan, Selene says.”

“Spartan my arse,” Gelon laughed. “She’s like uncooked dough on the quiet. Do you want to know about those fucking bear cubs?”

Phoibe nodded eagerly and took another sip.

“Right well, just between you, me and the figurehead, she brought them back because she killed their mother. She didn’t set out to, mind. She blundered into her cave looking for fuck knows what. Given the time it happened,” she frowned thoughtfully, “it was probably something for Xenia.”

“Xenia?” Phoibe discreetly wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

“She’s not told you about Xenia?...aye well, I don’t know how much she shares about her…” Gelon searched her mind for an appropriate term. “Romantic dalliances?” she gave her a cautious look.

“A girlfriend?” 

“I don’t know that you’d call a pirate queen built like a fucking mountain, a “girlfriend” so much,” she saw Phoibe’s intrigued expression and smiled. 

“But let’s not get sidetracked, we’re talking about bear cubs. So she goes blundering into this cave, no doubt thinking with what’s between her legs instead of what’s between her ears, right into a furious mama bear. Nearly had her fucking leg off. She comes staggering back, bleeding like a son of a bitch and grinning like an idiot, with a sack over her back. A wriggling sack,” she smirked. 

“Bear cubs?” Phoibe breathed, her melancholy forgotten for the moment.

“Aye, two. I’m not going to lie to you, they were fucking gorgeous. When they tumbled out of that sack, crying and rolling over each other I thought Thyia was going to come, right there. So of course then some fucker had to go back ashore and find a nanny goat, cos these poor little buggers should still have been at their mama’s tit. Anyway, goat milk is for goats it turns out.”

“And Kassandra,” Phoibe interjected.

“So I understand,” Gelon laughed. “Weird fucker that she is. Anyway she decides the only thing to do was find a Daughters of Artemis camp. Apparently them buggers have like a magical connection with animals. As if a fucking bear den wasn’t dangerous enough. Off she lopes with this mewling sack on her back, comes running back a couple of hours later like her arse is on fire. On account of it nearly was,” she laughed. “Her fucking tunic was in smoking shreds. But turns out, if a load of crazy fucking nature witches are after you, firing flaming arrows at your arse, if you toss a couple of adorable baby bears in their path they’ll stop right in their tracks.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Phoibe nodded. It turned out Kassandra clearly had a little more knowledge of the Daughters than she’d admitted. Gelon was chortling and nudging her elbow.

“_ Bear _ that in mind,” she grinned. “Ah, we’ll be all right youngster,” she ruffled Phoibe’s hair and took a swig of her wine. “It feels rough now, but it’ll be all right.”

Phoibe gave a loud wet sniff and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, suddenly aware again of Kephallonia’s disappearing shore and how long it would be until she saw it again. Gelon rummaged in her pocket and produced a clean hankie.

“Thank you,” Phoibe accepted it and blew her nose. “Selene usually makes sure that I have one, but...well…”

“Other things on her mind today,” Gelon nodded solemnly.

“I’ll have to sort out my own hankies now I suppose,” Phoibe folded it and wiped her eyes. “I don’t think Kassandra’s going to do it for me.”

Gelon snorted derisively.

“Not fucking likely. Did Selene sort out _ her _ hankies as well?” she laughed. “I don’t know why I’m laughing, mind you,” she shook her head. “Gyke used to do all that. Clean hankies, clean underwear, insisted on it. I must have worn the same perizoma for a month when she...But you get into a new routine,” she stopped herself. “Don’t worry Phoibe, I’ll see you sorted till you get used to it.”

Phoibe blew her nose again and took another drink before speaking quietly.

“Do you still miss her?”

“Every fucking day,” Gelon replied without hesitation, her eyes fixed on the disappearing coast. “I’ll do something, or see something. Something fucking weird or beautiful out there,” she nodded at the waves. “And I think “I’ll tell Gyke about that”, and then I remember that I won’t. Not for a long while at any rate. Unless I trip overboard and get eaten by a fucking shark next week or something.”

“I don’t think she’d like that,” Phoibe said quietly, letting her hand creep along the rail until her fingers were brushing Gelon’s.

“No,” she nodded. “No, I don’t reckon she would, especially considering what happened to her.”

She took hold of Phoibe’s hand and held it gently for a few moments.

“I know it hurts little one,” she gave it a squeeze and turned towards her, placing her empty cup on the rail. “When you lose someone or leave someone. And _ you _ know that already don’t you?” she said kindly. “It hurts here,” she touched calloused fingers gently to Phoibe’s throat. “And here,” she repeated the gesture against her belly. “And most of all _ here _,” she pressed her hand to Phoibe’s chest.

“But you know what,” she took Phoibe’s hand and turned it over, resting it next to her own. “See that,” she smiled. “I wasn’t born with these callouses. I had nice smooth hands once. But a lifetime of hauling sails and turning the rudder has given me these. And they help me. I don’t get blisters anymore. _ You _ will for a while yet, but look, you’ve already got some callous there. From your bow, no? You’re a hunter, they’ll help you too. But even with these,” she flexed her fingers. “I can still do gentle things. I can thread a needle. And cradle a baby. And Aphrodite willing, I’ll hold the hand of a woman again one day and walk on the beach in the moonlight.”

She gave Phoibe a reassuring smile and patted her cheek.

“Callouses help us cope. They make work less painful, but they don’t stop us from feeling or doing things,” she leaned on the rail and watched the water foaming in their wake as they rounded Ithaka. “You’ll get them here too,” she patted her chest. “They take longer to form and they’re not half as fucking effective as here,” she held up a hand, “but they do help."

“You lost one family, little one, far too fucking soon,” she put an arm around Phoibe’s shoulders and pulled her into her side. “_ That _ one though,” she pointed out in the direction of Kephallonia. “Is still there. They’ll be home by now. They’re going to cry and get drunk and talk about how much they miss you. But then they’ll start thinking about all the funny things you did together and talking about them and they’ll laugh as well. They’ll never _ not _ miss you Phoibe, and _ you’ll _ never not miss them, but it’ll get less painful and before you know it, you’ll be thinking about them and smiling.”

Kassandra had been standing before the helm listening to this, resting her head against the planks, her face wet with tears, when a hand on her back startled her.

“Are you okay?” it was Odessa, her voice surprisingly soft.

“I’m fine,” she stood upright, brushing her off and turning her back, wiping brusquely at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Hey,” Odessa caught her arm and stopped her before she could stride off and hide her embarrassment. “Kassandra. It’s all right. _ All _ of this is all right,” she reached up and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “You’d be some sort of monster if you weren’t feeling this.”

“I don’t even know if I’ve done the right thing,” Kassandra almost sounded as though she was talking to herself. “If I’d any right to bring her.”

“You didn’t force her,” Odessa took her hands and held them, stroking softly over the scars on her knuckles. “And you aren’t going to force her to stay if she doesn’t want to. You gave her the choice. And of course she was going to come with you. She loves you Kassandra. She loves you like blood. She’s upset now, but she’ll be all right. Not right away, but soon.”

She reached up and cradled Kassandra’s wet cheek for a moment.

“We’ll take her back to visit, and it will hurt again every time she leaves. But she’s a strong girl. She’s already dealt with loss. She’s brave and good hearted, and you and Selene, Clio and Europa, maybe even Markos in his way, have helped to make her that. You should be proud Kassandra. Proud of Phoibe. And proud of yourself. It’s all right to miss your family, you know. Even while you’re making a new one for yourself. And it’s all right to cry about it.”

She stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to Kassandra’s, tasting the wet salt of her tears there.

“Am I interrupting?!” Kyra’s voice made Kassandra jump guiltily and she saw the soft, tender expression fade from Odessa’s face as she reapplied her mask of cocky indifference with a frustrated sigh.

“You are_ now _,” she turned, hand on hip. “Can we help you?”

“I was looking for you.” Kassandra could see the wounded look in her eyes. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. But clearly there’s a queue.”

She turned on her heel and stormed off.

“Kyra!” Kassandra made to follow her but Odessa caught her arm. 

“Let her go Kassandra,” she shook her head. “She’s already pissed because she doesn’t like the way I’ve stacked her bloody wine casks. But I’m not fucking Daedalus and there’s only so much space down there. And honestly? She needs to get a grip of this, of you, of the both of you. Because women are _ always _ going to come on to you Kassandra. And not just because you’re gorgeous. The thing is you don’t just fancy women, you _ like _ them. Women can tell that. And it’s madly attractive. If she wants to be with you, she’s going to have to learn to deal with it. Learn to trust you. Assuming that is, that you’re not going to give her any reason not to?” she gave her an arch look.

“No, Odessa, I’m not,” she said firmly. “Thank you for...for being kind, but I need to go to my...to Kyra.”

“Absolutely,” she nodded. “You do. And good luck to you. I need to go get the crew organised,” she glanced around Kassandra towards where Gelon was standing with Phoibe. “I’ll take over for Gelon while she’s busy getting in touch with her softer side. It’s not like we need to be cutting through the waves like a hot knife just yet.”

“No,” Kassandra nodded, blinking to clear her eyes and searching though her pocket to see if she had a handkerchief of her own. “Though I imagine Kyra would like us to get back to Mykonos as quickly as we can.”

“With all due respect Commander,” Odessa gave her a sarcastic salute. “Kyra can go fuck herself.” Kassandra rolled her eyes but refrained from saying anything. “And once she’s done that, she can go and restack those casks herself if she’s still dissatisfied, because they’re solid as Olympus. Go check for yourself if she starts bitching about it,” she wagged a finger.

Kassandra watched her saunter off down the deck, before turning back to check on Phoibe. She was sitting on the stern rail, her legs over the side, and for a moment Kassandra’s heart leapt into her throat, but then she saw Gelon’s wiry arm firmly about her waist as she leaned in, pointing out something in the water.

As she turned to go look for Kyra she heard Phoibe’s laughter. It was faint, but Odessa and Gelon were both right, it wouldn’t be faint for long.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that Kyra might also be up for a quick game of "Commander and Passenger" under the right circumstances

Having failed to find a hankie, Kassandra resorted to using the sleeve of her tunic to wipe her eyes and took a few steadying breaths before striding out onto the deck. She stood and gazed down past the mast, allowing the wind and spray to cool her face. 

Odessa’s voice was ringing out instructions as she angled them to set course for the coast of Achaia. Up in the bow she could make out Thyia readying herself to begin piping rhythm for the rowers, Tzatziki was weaving in and out between her ankles. Clearly she’d already decided where her best bet lay for a warm bed.

“The weather is set fair Commander,” Barnabas’ voice boomed down from the helm and she turned and looked up to see him beaming with delight, his good eye fixed on the horizon. “Poseidon is sure to smile on us,” he shot a quick glance down at her. “Now we have Phoibe on board. She’s as good as offering a young goat every morning.”

Kassandra made her way up to join him, and he gave her a slightly defensive look as she took up position beside him, leaning over with her elbows on the rail.

“Look, Kassandra, if you’re going to have a go at me about making a scene with Markos this morning -” he held up his hands. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she laughed fondly. “Nothing was further from my mind, in fact. I just came up to thank you actually.”

“For what?” he reached down and filled two cups with a significantly less dilute mixture than the one Gelon had taken to Phoibe, handing one to Kassandra.

“For everything,” she shrugged, taking a sip. “For being you, old friend.”

“I wouldn’t know how to be anyone else by now,” he laughed. “Oh look!” he pointed sharply. “A whale! Where’s Phoibe?” he looked around.

“With Gelon. She’s still a bit upset, but honestly Gelon is...well, she’s doing a good job,” Kassandra mused, swirling the wine in her cup.

“She’ll be safe with Gelon,” he nodded emphatically. “Heart of gold that one. Mouth like an open latrine pit, but a heart of gold.”

“You  _ do _ remember that she was pirating pilgrims when I met her?” Kassandra gave him a wry look.

“As I said, heart of gold...now,” he expanded. “Half the people you bring home with you have less than glowing pasts,” he laughed. “But they settle down once they get here. And Gelon is a shining example,” he retrieved the wine jug from the floor, refilled his cup and offered the jug to Kassandra.

“No, no, I don’t think so,” she shook her head. “A little early in the day, and I’ve things to do.”

“Kyra?” he suggested, then saw her playfully scandalized look. “No! I didn’t mean, do, like  _ do _ , just you...well I did see her making for your cabin, face like Hera. Did you say something… rash?”

“No,” she shook her head, affronted. “She’s a little...tense.”

“Well it’s been an emotional morning for everyone. It’s always bittersweet leaving Kephallonia. And then she’s concerned about her barrels,” Barnabas nodded knowingly. “She’s not entirely happy with where Odessa has stowed them.”

“So I gather. Be honest Barnabas, has Odessa stowed them some place ridiculous just to pull Kyra’s tail?”

“I should say not,” he defended. “Odessa is as concerned about those casks as anyone, since she found out who they belong to. We didn’t plan on taking a wine cellar back with us after all, she’s had to think on her feet,” he shot a mildly reproachful glance in Kassandra’s direction and saw her grimace apologetically.

“She did her best at the last minute, but Kyra picked entirely the wrong time to be hovering around pulling _ _ _Odessa's_ tail. We’d had a long day getting supplies sorted, she’d barely got to bed when those barrels turned up. I’m not sure that Markos didn't do it on purpose just to be a jackass.”

Kassandra decided that she wouldn’t put it past him herself. She’d been so preoccupied with the dockside goodbyes that it had never occurred to her that the wine preparation was remarkably well advanced by the time they arrived. And Kyra, in fairness, was used to things being done  _ how _ she wanted them done and  _ when  _ she wanted them done.

“Perhaps she’s concerned that we might hit another storm like the one we encountered on the journey over?” he pondered. “I’ll sort out getting them covered with Xenia’s colours, for a bit of protection. They take up space in the hold, might as well make themselves useful for something. To be honest with you, I imagine Odessa would have suggested it herself if Kyra and her hadn’t been going at it like two wet cats.”

Kassandra spotted a whale breaching off the bow. Another, she wondered, or the same one? Phoibe had missed it again, but there’d be time enough for her to see her share of wonders between here and the Silver Islands, she reassured herself.

“You know, I hate to say that I told you so,” Barnabas said quietly, turning to look at her as she snorted in disbelief. “All right, that’s a fair point. It  _ is _ sometimes satisfying, I’ll give you that, but not this time.”

“What have I done now?” Kassandra drained her cup and placed it on the deck by her feet.

“I do recall suggesting many moons ago, that it might  _ not _ be the wisest of ideas crewing the ship with ex-lovers,” he raised his eyebrows. “It’s taken a while coming but -”

“Crewing the ship with?!” she protested. “Thyia and Odessa! That’s hardly crewing the ship.”

“And Gelon?” he suggested.

“Excuse me?!” she turned to face him, genuinely offended. “No! Not Gelon,” she lowered her voice.

“Really?” his eyebrows inched towards his hairline.

“Absolutely,” she sounded scandalized. “Gelon was grieving Gyke. Still is, I suspect.”

“Sorry, sorry, I just wondered,” he held up an apologetic hand. “I thought perhaps that was what you’d have been thinking. You know, best intentions and all, helping her get over it.”

“Well I wasn’t helping her get over  _ anything _ ,” she sniffed. “The idea! Ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“No, of course I believe you,” he patted her arm gently. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to keep track of things, it’s not always been easy. I mean I know Odessa and Thyia are happy to keep an open door policy in their relationship, to some extent ...and,” he pursed his lips and gave her a suggestive look. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with a little group activity of course, nothing at all so long as all parties are enthusiastic participants. I’ve always found -”

“Whoa,” Kassandra held up a hand. “Please Barnabas, no details of your group activities thank you. Look!” she sighed. “I’m about to make keeping track a whole lot easier.” 

She turned and found him looking expectant with a hand outstretched. He waited for a moment then registered her perplexed expression.

“Oh! It’s not a  _ thing _ ? I thought perhaps it was… notes or something,” he lowered his hand and cleared his throat before refilling his cup again.

“I don’t keep a bloody checklist,” she gave a weary shake of her head. “It’s easy to remember now Barnabas because there’s only Kyra. There’s only been Kyra since, well since we dealt with Dianthe’s remains. There’s only going to be Kyra. This is it now. Me, Kyra, Phoibe. No  _ group activity _ ,” she raised her eyebrows.

“Really?” a slow, warm smile spread across his face and his eyes crinkled with delight.

“Really!” she patted his shoulder. “It’s not the beautiful beaches that are keeping me on Mykonos, Barnabas,” she gave a wry laugh. “If she wanted to go live on stinking Nisyros, then that’s where I’d be setting up home.”

“They  _ are _ beautiful beaches though,” he brushed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Well, there’s  _ one _ you’ll want to steer clear of, of course, but the rest,” he nodded. “But...this is wonderful Kassandra,” he stroked her back gently for a moment before turning it into a hearty slap. “It’s about time. I mean not about time you stopped adventuring, but about time you stopped...well,” he considered how best to phrase it. “It’s about time you had a special someone, just the one, someone to come home to. Besides me,” he smiled.

“I’ll still be coming home to you, old man,” she nudged him, keen to circumvent an emotional display. There’d been enough of those already this morning. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that there was probably at least one more in the immediate future.

She stood up and took a deep breath, stretching out her back and shoulders.  Barnabas anticipated what she was about to say and gave her arm a reassuring pat.

“Yes, you should go see her, sort things out. She’s irritated about the wine, irritated about Odessa too I suppose. But then Odessa  _ can _ be irritating at the best of times. And she’s probably remembering all those days throwing up in a bucket. Go give her a hug, and some of those weird smelling pills that Theis makes.”

He meant well, Kassandra knew, but she wasn’t sure that either of those suggestions would make for a winning opening gambit here. She stopped outside the cabin door and listened. There was the sound of movement inside, soft at first but terminated by a sudden crack that made her jump. The lid of the trunk made a satisfying slam, she thought, she’d have to remember that.

“Who is it?” Kyra’s voice was brisk and professional in response to her knock.

“It’s me, love,” she had her hand on the handle.

“Are you alone?” Kassandra could picture her expression right through the thick planks of the door and rolled her eyes.

“Yes. Of course I’m alone. May I come in?”

“It’s  _ your _ cabin.”

Kassandra swore she could actually hear her petulant shrug and gave a sigh. It had been a long, emotional couple of days, and she really wasn’t in the mood for this.

“It’s  _ our _ cabin,” she said as she entered, closing the door behind her.

Kyra had her back to her and was stowing clothes as though each garment had personally offended her.  Kassandra watched for a few moments, hoping that she’d stop and say something, but eventually it became apparent that she was going to have to grasp the nettle herself.

“You need to stop this Kyra,” she said quietly.

“I’ve almost done,” she didn’t turn round. “I’ve left yours in the trunk, I wasn’t sure where you wanted them. In Odessa’s cabin perhaps?”

Kassandra almost laughed, but stopped herself just in time. She shook her head, too weary right now to search through her internal vocabulary for something soft and conciliatory.

“Don’t be a dick, Kyra,” she leaned back against the bunk. “I wasn’t talking about putting your clothes away, and you know it. You need to stop feeling threatened every time a woman looks at me.”

Kyra dropped a pair of boots on the floor as if she’d forgotten she was holding them and looked at her for the first time.

“You look with your eyes, not with your lips.”

“A fair point,” Kassandra crossed her ankles and laced her fingers at her crotch. “But it wasn’t anything sinister, love. She was comforting me, I was upset.”

“It’s  _ my _ job to comfort you,” Kyra jabbed herself in the chest with a thumb.

“Well, in our defense, you weren’t there,” she pointed out quietly.

“I was  _ looking _ for you!” Kyra protested. “I said as much. I had difficulty locating you because you were hiding in the stern necking with one of your ex-lovers!”

“Right!” Kassandra held up a finger. “There are a few things there. First of all, we weren’t hiding. I’d been watching Phoibe and Gelon. Phoibe’s upset and I wanted to make sure she was going to be okay. And secondly, we weren’t necking. It was just a kiss. I kiss people all the time.”

“You certainly kiss  _ women _ all the time,” Kyra had picked up her night shirt, which had been quite adequately folded, and was folding it again, much less adequately. “I notice you aren’t correcting me about calling her your ex-lover.”

“Why would I? “Kassandra sighed. “You already know that, I’m not going to lie to you, least of all about that.”

“She’s still an  _ ex _ then?” Kyra was shaking the shirt out again.

“Oh Kyra,” Kassandra raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Of course she is. Look. I told you, love. There has been no one, no one at all since the night we said goodbye to Dianthe. I’m many things, not all of them good. But I’m not a liar.”

Kyra took a shaky breath and threw the shirt onto the bunk.

“I’m not saying that you are,” she shook her head, but didn’t look at her. “But it’s one thing saying you aren’t going to eat cake when there’s no cake in the house. It’s a lot harder when someone has just pulled one out of the oven and cut you a slice and it’s sitting warm, right under your nose.”

“Interesting comparison,” Kassandra pursed her lips. “And now I sort of want cake. But I don’t want Odessa...or Thyia...or even Clio,” she tilted her head, trying to meet Kyra’s eyes. “Or any of the other women you’re worrying about. They’re all in the past.”

“You have a disturbing amount of past,” she mumbled, picking up the shirt again and fussing with it.

“I suppose I do,” Kassandra conceded. “But I was a different person back then Kyra. If someone offered me cake, I was always going to eat it,” she laughed softly. “Because that Kassandra back then? She was constantly searching for something, but she’d no idea what.  _ This _ Kassandra,” she placed a hand to her chest. “She’s found it. It’s you Kyra.  _ You’re _ what I was looking for,” she reached out and caught her hand, gently extricating the crumpled shirt from her grasp.

“You are everything to me Kyra. Before you it was as though I was looking at the world through a veil. I’d worn it for so long that I’d forgotten I had it on. My world was running, and searching, and fighting. It was all I knew and I was afraid of what would happen if I stopped. Of who I would be. If I’d even be anything. Then I met you and you made me realise that I could do that. That it would be safe. That I could change my life and myself without losing anything, in fact I’d be adding things. You took off that veil for me Kyra, and the world is beautiful.”

Kyra inched sideways a little, until her leg was brushing against Kassandra’s thigh.

“Look, Kyra,” she shifted to face her and took her in her arms, raising her chin, making her meet her eyes. “There’s no point me lying to you about this. Pretty much wherever we go you’re going to find a cake that I’ve sampled in the past. But you have to believe me, it _ is _ the past. And you’ve got to stop using it as a stick to beat me with.”

She felt Kyra gradually relax in her embrace, lean against her a little.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I was worried about...well about those damn wine casks, but that doesn’t matter now,” she shook her head. “And Odessa seems to know just how to needle me, and I knew you’d be worried about Phoibe so I came to look for you and there's Odessa, hand feeding you her cake!”

Kassandra snorted softly and gave her a fond, amused look.

“I think we should abandon the cake comparisons. It’s going to get filthy, really fast. But it’s true,” she nodded. “Odessa can be like one of those puppies that just nips at your ankles the more you tell it not to.”

“So do I splash a little water on her nose?” Kyra looked up.

“I think you’re supposed to throw a ball for them or something, no?” Kassandra laughed. “I’m not sure what the equivalent would be. But shouting at her to stop definitely isn’t going to work. Try ignoring her. And for what it’s worth, she genuinely  _ was _ just trying to be comforting this time. Because, in case you’ve forgotten, that is  _ not _ how I kiss a woman when I really mean business.” 

She gave a seductive smirk and raised her hands to Kyra’s face, cradling her jaw and running her thumbs along the crest of her cheek bones, before intensifying her grip and pulling her into a heated kiss. Holding her firmly she pressed her tongue assertively into Kyra’s mouth, licking wetly at her lower lip in passing, tickling against the roof of her mouth. She could sense Kyra begin to melt in her arms, felt her hands clutching at the back of her neck, heard her moan into the kiss.

She ended it as firmly as she’d begun, taking Kyra’s shoulders and pushing her back a little so she could look into her slightly dazed eyes.

“Now if we’d been doing that together in the stern, you’d have been justified in slapping my face.” 

“Point made,” Kyra breathed, grasping at the front of Kassandra’s tunic and trying to pull her back down, to continue where she’d left off.

“Not now,” she caught her hands and held them away. “We’re barely out of dock and I’ve work to do.”

Kyra blinked slowly and struggled a little in her grasp, without much success.  “But..” she sounded more than slightly disappointed. 

“No, buts, sorry,” Kassandra shook her head. “You’re not the Archon again yet, and I’m not your Misthios. Right now, it’s commander and passenger. And you’ve got a night shirt to fold,” she nodded at the crumpled garment on the bunk. “I’ll see you later,” she stopped by the door and looked back, her expression serious. “Just keep out of Odessa’s way till you’ve both calmed down a bit, eh?”

Kassandra kept a weather eye on Phoibe for the rest of the day, looking out for signs of upset, but whenever she located her she was right by Gelon’s side, asking her questions, watching her admiringly.

“You’ll be able to command the rowers yourself pretty soon,” she observed much later as she joined them for something to eat, ruffling Phoibe’s hair fondly as she sat down cross legged beside them.

“That’s my fucking plan,” Gelon chuckled affably, breaking in half some bread and salted fish and handing a portion to Phoibe.

“Not till my lungs get bigger,” she was making to sit on the rail to eat, but caught Kassandra’s warning look and shake of the head.

“One quick swell and you’ll be over the side,” she explained.

Phoibe crammed a chunk of fish in her mouth and chewed hungrily as she leaned over and peered down at the rushing waves and scything oars.

“Well, I wouldn’t drown I don’t suppose,” she mumbled, mouth full. “The oars would kill me first. Or they’d knock me unconscious and then I’d drown?”

“Aye, well let’s not test that theory,” Gelon grabbed the back of her tunic and hauled her down. “Sit your arse down and eat. Don’t talk with your fucking mouth full and stop shitting up the commander,” she laughed at Kassandra’s pale horrified expression. “She’s going to be putting you on a leash at this rate.”

“But what _ would  _ happen?” Phoibe dropped to sit cross legged beside her. “If I  _ did _ fall overboard?”

“Big lass here would cross the fucking Styx instantly,” Gelon laughed and nodded at Kassandra. “Here,” she poured a cup of water for Phoibe. “Enjoy it while it’s still fresh. And if you fell overboard we’d turn right round and go back to fish you out, you daft bugger, what did you think?”

“I just wondered,” Phoibe drank deeply and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Has anyone ever fallen over?”

“Odessa!!” said Gelon and Kassandra in unison.

“It’s like she doesn’t want to stay  _ on _ the fucking ship sometimes. And considering that she’s shit scared of sharks, I don’t know why she keeps doing it.”

“Sharks?” this prospect clearly hadn’t occurred to Phoibe.

“Aye, but everyone’s shit scared of sharks,” Gelon continued quietly. “So don’t go ribbing her about that.”

“And I don’t think she does it on purpose,” Kassandra mused, refilling Phoibe’s cup. “Drink plenty, it’s warm and you’re running around."

“No, of course not, she’s just a clumsy little bugger when her mind’s not on the job,” Gelon opened a cloth bag by her side to reveal ripe plums and offered Phoibe first pick. “Unlike your graceful lady love,” she tossed a couple to Kassandra. “Speaking of which, where the fuck is she? I half expected her to be here on your lap.”

“She’s with Barnabas,” Kassandra nodded to the helm, wiping juice from her chin. “Discussing the route. She wants us to crack on and get back. I think it’s begun to dawn on her how long we’ve been away.”

“Well if the weather stays like this and she manages to scare the shit out of the foreman at this end of the diolkos, the same way she did at the Korinth end, we’ll be there before she knows it.”

“The diolkos!” Phoibe entirely forgot Gelon’s earlier warning and sprayed fruit juice over Kassandra’s knee, quickly wiping it off with an apologetic smile. “I’d forgotten all about the diolkos.”

“I fucking hadn’t,” Gelon sighed wearily, flexing her hands. “It’s where half these sodding callouses come from. Still, it’s a fascinating thing to see for the first time. And it’ll be interesting to you my little artist,” she ruffled Phoibe’s hair. “Remind me to get you some more papyrus when we go ashore to resupply.”

Her comment gave Kassandra an idea. Wiping her hands on her tunic and brushing crumbs from her skirt, she got to her feet, made her excuses and went to have a word with Tekton the carpenter.

When she returned to their cabin later that evening she had a curious board tucked under her arm. Kyra was brushing her hair and getting ready for bed but she stopped and gave it a quizzical look. Kassandra placed it carefully on the table, looking quietly pleased with herself.

“It’s for Phoibe,” she explained. “So her papers and things don’t blow overboard while she’s drawing,” she indicated two thin leather cords at either end. “She can tuck the papyrus under here. And I scrounged a little pot from Theis for ink...if she brought any with her,” she frowned thoughtfully.

“I have a little that she can have if not,” Kyra came over and stood beside her, hugging her arm as she admired it. “We can get her more when we resupply, certainly at the diolkos. You’re very clever,” she reached out and stroked the well sanded wood.

“I didn’t make it,” Kassandra laughed dismissively. “I just explained to Tekton what I wanted.”

“Well Kallikrates didn’t actually _ build  _ the Parthenon you know,” Kyra kissed her cheek and went to climb into their bunk.

“I’ll take your word for that,” Kassandra shrugged affably. “But it’s just a drawing board, not a temple.”

“I imagine it will be even more special to Phoibe actually,” Kyra smiled. “Are you going to give it to her now?” she saw her making for the door.

“No, I just want to go and say goodnight. Make sure she’s all right. Things seem worse at night somehow, no? I want to check that she isn’t too homesick. If I give her this, she’ll get excited and poor Gelon won’t get a wink of sleep. I won’t be long.”

Kassandra’s estimation of events had been more or less accurate. The excitement of the first day aboard, the sights and sounds and smells of the open sea had taken Phoibe’s mind off things very effectively. But the more familiar routine of getting ready for bed reminded her that Selene and the others weren’t here to wish her goodnight.

She put a brave face on things as she washed, pulled on her nightshirt and clambered into the bunk, taking the opposite end to Gelon to maximize space. With the lamp turned down as low as it would go, she snuggled down and pulled the covers up around her ears.

All was quiet for a few minutes and then Gelon heard a muffled sniff.

“You all right, little one?” she raised her head slightly and peered down towards the foot of the bunk. She could just make out Phoibe cocooned in the covers, head hidden. “Do you want me to go and find that bloody cat? I’m pretty sure Odessa won’t mind, and Thyia, well she can just Spartan up for the night eh?” she gave her a gentle teasing nudge with her foot.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m good,” she felt her shaking her head. “Thank you though.”

“All right,” Gelon said hesitantly, lying back down. “You let me know if you change your mind.”

There were a few more minutes quiet and Gelon had almost dozed off, exhausted by the first day at sea and the added pressure of keeping an eye on her new charge. But then she became aware of a light, not quite rhythmic movement from the end of the bunk, the sensation of someone trying but failing to disguise that they were crying. She restrained a sigh and sat up, turning up the lantern a shade.

“What can I do Phoibe?” she brushed her hair back out of her eyes and leaned up on one elbow. “Anything? Something? Nothing?”

“I’m sorry,” her voice was muffled by the covers.

“Why? What have you done?”

“Nothing, I just promised to be no trouble and now…” Phoibe’s voice began to tremble and she tailed off.

“Aye, that was the deal,” Gelon sat up and leaned back against the wall of the bunk. “But I meant not leaving your shit around the cabin, don’t use the last of the water and not refill it, don’t get drunk and bring boys home, that kind of bollocks. Not, don’t tell me when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Phoibe sniffed wetly. “I’m just...I miss Selene.”

“Of course you do youngster,” Gelon sighed. “You’re not some kind of heartless monster. Is there something Selene usually does, that I can do to help?”

There was a much longer pause than she’d anticipated before Phoibe ventured.

“There’s a song about Aphrodite and some doves that she sings when I can’t sleep.”

“Aye, I said something she does that I  _ can _ do,” Gelon laughed kindly. “Singing isn’t one of those things. Even drunk as a fucking priest I don’t sing. Think of something else.”

“She gives good hugs?” Phoibe suggested hesitantly.

“I bet she does,” Gelon smirked. “I’ve never been fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of one but I fancy they’d be pretty fucking delightful. Well Phoibe, no one’s ever accused me of giving good hugs, but I suppose I can give it a try if you’d like?”

Phoibe scrambled up the bunk with a good deal more eagerness than grace, elbowing Gelon in the ribs and banging her head on the roof before she managed to settle, snuggling up next to her.

“Would you tell me a story?” she asked after a while, voice hesitant but hopeful.

Gelon gave a weary exhalation.

“Story telling isn’t really my area of expertise, youngster. If you want that, you need to bunk with bloody Barnabas, he’d keep you up all night with his tales.”

“He snores,” Phoibe nuzzled her head against Gelon’s chest and closed her eyes. “Well what did you and Gyke do when  _ she _ couldn't sleep?”

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Gelon spoke more brightly.

“Actually how about I tell you the terrifying tale of the time Basileos nearly got eaten by a huge fucking squid? Want to hear that?”

“Yes!” she could almost hear Phoibe’s ear to ear grin.

“It’s not going to give you nightmares?” she checked before launching.

“Hardly,” Phoibe laughed. “He gave me a piggy back earlier, so I know it didn’t eat him.”

By the time a faint knock sounded on the cabin door she was asleep, and Gelon was wondering if it would be possible to extricate herself from the girl’s limpet like embrace and move down to the other end of the bunk.

“Come in, but be deadly fucking quiet,” she hissed.

“Aw, look at you!” Kassandra smirked, tiptoeing in and easing the door closed behind her.

“Not a fucking word, with respect, commander,” Gelon replied dryly.

“I just came to see if she was all right,” Kassandra towered over the bunk and gazed down fondly at Phoibe. She was curled around Gelon, her hair mussed and her brows crinkled as she settled into sleep. 

“I was afraid she might be homesick,” she bent and stroked Phoibe’s hair back from her brow, easing the crease between her eyebrows with a stroke of her thumb.

“She is,” Gelon sighed. “That’s why she’s up here and not down that fucking end,” she gave a curt nod towards the opposite end of the bunk, but Kassandra noted how soft her voice was. “I had to come up with some cock and bull tale about how Basileos was eaten by a giant squid.”

“Basileos is at the helm, even as we speak,” she laughed.

“ _ Almost _ fucking eaten,” Gelon corrected. “Now, I was just wondering how to shift her.”

“Why? She’s asleep now.”

“Because I can’t sleep on my fucking back and I’ve a day of sodding work ahead of me.”

“Well just roll over,” Kassandra suggested. “She likes it when you spoon her.”

“Aye, I’m sure she does,” Gelon grumbled halfheartedly. “So do I. But that’s not happening either.”

Kassandra gave her a wry smile and scratched her jaw thoughtfully.

“Maybe it’s time for you to do something about that, Gelon?”

“Tell you what Kassandra,” she shook her head, half laughing, “I’ll draw up a list of all the fucking people I’d do well to take relationship advice from and when I eventually get down to your bloody name you can sort me out, eh?”

“K’sndra?” Phoibe’s sleepy voice interrupted them.

“Hey there, little one,” Kassandra crouched by the bunk and gave her a smile. “I just came to say goodnight, check that you were okay.”

“I was a bit homesick,” she rubbed her eyes sleepily, “but Gelon told me a story, because she doesn’t sing.”

“Oh, I bet if we got enough wine inside her,” Kassandra gave a soft laugh.

“Aye, let’s not and say we fucking did. Little one?” Gelon began to gently disentangle herself. “I’m going to the other end, you can hug my feet if you’ve a mind to.”

Phoibe looked mildly disappointed but was too drowsy now to protest much.

“Kassandra,” she mumbled, voice muddy with sleep. “Will you sing me that song please?”

“Which song?” she darted a wary glance at Gelon, anticipating some robust teasing.

“The one about Aphrodite and her bloody doves apparently,” she showed no indication of wanting to pull Kassandra’s leg.

“Please?” Phoibe snuggled down as Kassandra tucked her in and perched on the edge of the bunk facing her. “Just a couple of verses.”

“All right Phoibe,” she cleared her throat awkwardly. “Not a word, Gelon!” she warned, without looking back at her.

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, commander.”

By the time Kassandra had finished the third verse Phoibe was breathing steadily and her hand, which had been clasping Kassandra’s fingers had relaxed and slipped down beside her cheek.

“Sleep well little one,” she whispered, leaning over and kissing her brow softly. “Do you want a kiss goodnight as well, Gelon?” she got to her feet and glanced over, only to see that she’d also fallen fast asleep.

Kassandra gave a quiet huff of amusement and left the cabin on cat-like feet, easing the door closed behind her. It was almost as quiet on deck. The wind was too gentle and steady to disrupt the sails much and the light slap of the swells against the hull was almost a lullaby.

Making her way to her cabin she saw the huge bulk of Basileos at the helm, a dark void against the midnight blue sky.

“Is she settled commander?” he lowered his voice to a soft rumble as she approached.

“She is, Basileos,” she nodded. “She was a little homesick, but all’s well now.”

“It’ll be fine,” he nodded, eyes fixed on the dim horizon. “It will all be well. Poseidon will watch over her.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which trouble brews.

Over the next few days it seemed as though his prediction was going to prove accurate. The seas remained smooth, the weather kind and the winds co-operative. They would make better time on the return journey than they had on their way to Kephallonia Kassandra thought, as she stood at the bow watching out for the first sight of the coast of Korinthia.

Phoibe had settled into a busy routine on board, running errands when the need arose, watching and listening intently whenever the opportunity presented itself to learn a new skill.

For a good portion of the day she dogged Gelon’s steps as she went about her duties, watching admiringly, bending her ear with questions. At first Kassandra was concerned that the novelty of her new devotee would wear thin, but Gelon seemed happy to have someone to teach and talk with.

When she had free time Phoibe occupied herself drawing and keeping notes about the trip. Material for letters back she’d explained to Kassandra. Kyra had finally managed to endear herself to her somewhat by sharing the reserve of ink that she’d brought and by securing more charcoal, reeds and papyrus when they docked to resupply.

Phoibe had made it her mission to draw a portrait of every crew member before they reached Mykonos. Kassandra had been initially wary of her spending too much time in the rough and ready atmosphere below decks with the rowers. To her surprise though, not only had they already adopted Phoibe as a lucky mascot, but they seemed touchingly flattered at the prospect of being immortalized.

She couldn’t remember a time when they’d taken such care over the relative cleanliness of their clothing and the grooming of their hair and whiskers. She’d already caught a few wheedling tacks from Tekton’s stores in order to pin up their pictures.

Kyra, for her part, seemed to become more tense the closer they drew to the diolkos.

When Kassandra questioned her about it one night in their bunk the answer didn’t altogether surprise her.

It had been a long absence and though she trusted Savina and Praxos implicitly, it was clearly preying on her mind how the time away from her duties might have been perceived by the Islanders.

“You left them in good hands,” Kassandra aimed for reassurance. “Short of someone trying to invade while you were away,” she saw immediately that Kyra was in no mood for teasing.

“Do not issue an invitation to The Fates,” she frowned. “Such things have happened.”

“Indeed,” Kassandra pursed her lips in theatrical consideration. “You did something similar yourself in fact. But it’s unlikely now, I fancy,” she hugged her. “The most likely scenario is that the people have established Savina as their new Archon, by popular demand.”

“Is this you trying to be comforting?” Kyra mustered a smile.

“Is it working?”

“Not particularly well, no. It's not Savina that I’m worried about, it’s Aegeus.”

“No. They might have cast him adrift with some water and barley cakes but they won’t have made him Archon.”

“I left him in charge of that grain delivery,” Kyra seemed to be speaking to herself now. “A man who got us a billy goat for milk.”

“He made up for it. Those nannies are  _ gorgeous _ . If I was a goat I’d think my ship had come in. A male goat, I suppose,” she added, thoughtfully.

Kyra wasn’t taking the bait, she was sitting, hugging her knees and running a thumbnail across her teeth.

“It was all sorted, wasn’t it?” Kassandra stroked her back, abandoning teasing for comfort. “He just needs to oversee the delivery, no?”

“He’s no grain merchant, or farmer,” Kyra sighed. “Neither is Praxos. I’m imagining a scenario where he hands over full payment for a hold full of grain that turns out to be half chalk.”

“In which case Praxos and I will go and have a polite conversation with that...what’s his name? Alexor? Alector! With Alector and make him consider the potential damage to his reputation and limbs from such underhand behaviour.  Besides, love,” she tucked Kyra’s hair back behind her ear in order to see her profile more clearly. “The farmers definitely  _ are _ farmers and they’re going to want to see the stuff before it goes into their silos, surely?” 

Kyra was quiet for a moment but then she turned and gave Kassandra a smile that suggested that she was at least partly reassured.

“Of course. Of course they will,” she lay back in her arms and rested her head on Kassandra’s chest.

“And you’ve a cellar-full of wine to return to an old friend,” she kissed Kyra’s forehead. “She’s going to be pleased about that, no?”

“So long as nothing goes wrong with it,” she said quietly. “When I said she has a ruthless streak I wasn’t exaggerating.” 

Kassandra raised her head from the pillow and assessed her expression.

“You’re not suggesting that she would try and send me your head? Because -”

“No, no! Nothing so extreme, we go back too far for that. But she’s a woman it’s much better to have on your side. I don’t want anything to happen to those barrels while we’re negotiating the diolkos. Perhaps we should unload them?”

Kassandra gave a sigh and shook her head.

“I thought you might say that. I was discussing it with Odessa,” she heard Kyra’s derisive snort. “ _ And _ Barnabas! There’s far more opportunity for mishaps unloading and reloading them. That’s leaving aside shifting the damn things along the diolkos. Are you suggesting we carry them? Or hire a cart? No. I’ll go down tomorrow and double...no,  _ triple _ check that they’re lashed securely. Far safer to leave them where they are.”

She hugged Kyra tighter and pressed a kiss to her head.

“And leaving aside your personal animosity, Odessa has heard such horror stories about your rebel friend that she’s tied those things down with Gordian knots, I swear. They’re going nowhere.”

“But you’ll check?” Kyra snuggled down, wincing suddenly.

“On my word! What’s the matter, love?”

“Bit of a back ache,” she shrugged dismissively.

“Too much sitting at the table writing notes to yourself.” Kassandra rubbed the small of her back firmly. “No paperwork tomorrow. I’m confiscating your pens. You need some fresh air.”

The following afternoon Thyia’s eager cry alerted everyone that the shore of Korinthia was visible.

Kassandra abandoned what she was doing and loped swiftly along to the bow to witness Phoibe’s first view of the diolkos.

“I told you it was big,” she laughed at her expression of wonder.

“I know,” Phoibe had Tzatziki in her arms and was absently tickling the cat’s ears as she gazed wide-eyed at their next destination. “But it was hard to imagine. Do we have to wait for that other ship to go first?” she nodded at a merchant vessel that was already docked.

“First come, first served,” Kassandra leaned on the rail beside her and watched proceedings. “It’s not a bad thing though. It gives us time to prepare and you get a really good view of what goes on.”

“I’m going to take notes!” the thought suddenly occurred to Phoibe. “To tell the others about it,” she plopped the purring cat onto the deck and skipped off.

Kassandra was kept occupied with preparations for the rest of the afternoon, but sure enough, each time she looked up, Phoibe was in the bow, industriously sketching and writing.

For her part she was pressed into service helping to stow the sails. Gelon was pacing to and fro, frowning and eyeing the apparent chaos on deck.

“I don’t like all this fucking mess up here,” she tapped at her teeth with a thumbnail. “Piles of bloody stuff here, there, and every fucking where. Some bugger’s going to go tit over arse if we’re not careful. And I don’t know why you’re fucking laughing Odessa, it’s as likely to be you as some bugger else.”

“That’s just what I was saying,” Thyia crossed her arms and surveyed the disarray. “Well not in those exact words, but that’s what I was driving at. Why is the sail there? It’s in everyone’s way.”

“Because,” Odessa was kneeling down lashing the bulky sail into a rough bundle, “the commander’s _ beloved  _ has filled its usual place with a load of wine belonging to a short tempered murderer of her acquaintance.”

“Well get it stowed between the fucking rowers then,” Gelon waved a despairing hand at it.

“And how are they supposed to row with this literally under their feet? I say we tie it snug and roll it in front of the helm. That way it’s only under your feet, my rough tongued friend.”

Gelon had her mouth open to protest but Thyia placed a soothing hand on her forearm.

“You could sit on it while you work,” she suggested. “And tomorrow we’ll be off ship anyway. It will be less trouble than struggling to haul it in and out of the hold.”

After a few moments consideration Gelon nodded.

“Fair enough. But I’ll tell you what! All this fucking rigging here? Get it coiled, and properly too. Not your usual bloody half arsed nonsense. Some bugger’s going to break their fucking neck on it, and I don’t know about you, but I’d quite like to see Mykonos again before I die.”

“Aye aye, cap’n,” Odessa gave her a sarcastic salute and watched as she stalked off back towards the helm. “She gets so wound up before we do this. Every time.”

“Well seeing someone fall under the wheels will do that to you I suppose,” Thyia toed a loop of rope by her foot. “And in fairness you are inclined to be sloppy with ropes.”

“Not what you were saying last week,” Odessa gave her a saucy wink.

“And just for that, the two of you can sort this out on your own, I’m going to see if they need help below decks.”

“Well done, Odessa,” Kassandra rolled her eyes. “I hate stowing rope,” she grumbled picking up the thick cord of hemp that Thyia had nudged out of her way. “And you’ve got this all tangled under the bloody sail now.”

“ _ We’ve _ got it all tangled under the bloody sail,” she corrected, grunting with effort as she heaved up one end of the heavy bundle, just as Kassandra gave the rope a petulant tug.

“Fuck’s sake!” she muttered, staggering back and half tripping over a second loose coil.

Odessa sat back on her haunches and watched with open amusement as Kassandra’s attempts to disentangle herself only succeeded in making matters worse.

“Stop. Stop!” she laughed. “You’re going to lose a leg at this rate,” she dropped to her knees and shuffled forwards. “You’re very grumpy today, commander, if you don’t mind me making the observation? Trouble in Elysium?” she arched an eyebrow and smirked.

“No!” Kassandra yanked at the rope, feeling it bite into the back of her knee. “Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about, I assure you,” she gave her a dry smile. “I just hate fucking ropes.”

“Now we both know that’s not entirely true,” Odessa teased. “Stop pulling it, you great donkey! You can’t solve every problem with brute strength, just ease off a moment.”

She knelt in front of Kassandra and began to untangle the ropes from around her ankle.

“See? Sometimes a gentle touch can have a much more productive result,” she grinned and ran a playful hand up the inside of Kassandra’s thigh, loosening the rope as she went and chuckling as she felt the reflexive twitch of her muscles.

Kyra chose this precise moment to step out on deck for some fresh air. She’d slept poorly the night before, her dull back ache migrating to her pelvis and signalling the approach of her period. She felt irritable and headachy. 

Kassandra was right she’d decided, there was nothing she could do about the Silver Islands from here in the middle of the Aegean. Savina and Praxos were totally reliable and Aegeus, whilst he could be a fool, was not an idiot. She was undoubtedly worrying about nothing, and merely making herself and others miserable by doing so. 

A turn about the deck, feeling the evening sun on her back and the fresh air filling her lungs would clear her head and calm her down, she decided.

The sight of Odessa on her knees at Kassandra’s feet, teasingly running her fingers up between her thighs had precisely the opposite effect. She was torn between two opposing impulses. The inclination to turn on her heel and storm back to the stuffy cabin, or the rather more attractive urge to stride over and knock Odessa clean onto her ass.

Before she could make up her mind, Odessa spotted her and smirked.

“Well, look who’s here! You definitely have the air of a woman who knows the ropes. Why not come and lend a hand?”

Kassandra turned to see who she was talking to, slipped on a loose end of rope and ended up half sitting, half sprawling on the bundled sail.

“It looks like you have more than enough hands to go round,” Kyra narrowed her eyes. “I was just going to check below decks.”

Odessa got to her feet with a theatrical sigh.

“Those damned barrels again? I swear on my life that I have them as secure as the Acropolis. I’ve no wish to be returned to my father in more than one piece, I assure you. But if you want to go and tug on a few knots, be my guest.”

Kyra could feel her annoyance coming to a boil. If she was honest about it, at least some was directed at herself. She wasn’t so much making a fool of herself, as helping Odessa to do it for her, by snapping greedily at whatever chunk of bait she dangled before Kyra’s nose.

The best thing to do would be to take her aside and point out, calmly but in no uncertain terms that she was wise to her shenanigans and would no longer be rising to meet them. But now wasn’t the right moment, not when they were both irritated. 

It had been a long, busy day and there was still work to be done in preparation for the next morning’s transition to the diolkos. She should leave Kassandra and Odessa here messing around with their damned ropes and go and find someone who could use her help. Preferably with something not too physically strenuous. The dull ache in her back and pelvis was growing more insistent and she was not looking forward with any joy to a day spent dragging this bloody ship along the rough tracks.

She heard the weary sigh that Kassandra gave as she got to her feet, dragging the line from around her foot. Everyone was irritated. It would be best just to withdraw and calm down. Turning on her heel she took a step or two before stopping. She couldn’t decide if she should go below and check on the security of her cargo or not. Which option would make her feel less foolish under the circumstances?

The sound of Barnabas eagerly calling her name saved Kyra from having to make a decision. Glancing up gratefully, she saw him standing at the helm, one arm braced on the rail, the other waving expansively in her direction. Squaring her shoulders she strode off to see what he needed.

Odessa watched her go and shook her head, smiling wryly as Kassandra began to sort the tangled rigging, muttering under her breath.

“You know commander, for someone who’s sharing such intimate confines with you, that woman has way too much energy spare for going round interfering in other people’s business.” 

She took the lighter of the lines and began to coil it, checking for wear and tear as she did so.

“Time was,” she continued, flicking a quick cheeky glance at Kassandra, “that any woman fortunate enough to be sharing your bunk was too exhausted the following day to be much use for anything. Domesticity dulling your edge, is it?”

Kassandra was squatting on her haunches, peering at the thick rope in her hands and considering finding a couple of lamps now that the light was beginning to fade. She rested her elbows on her knees and looked over at Odessa.

“That’s really none of your concern anymore now, is it? And stop rattling her cage. I see what you’re doing, though I’m not sure why.”

“Ah, it’s just amusing to see her composure slip now and again,” Odessa shrugged dismissively. “She’s forgotten that some of us remember when she was a drunken firebrand, leading a troupe of other drunken firebrands out of a bloody cave.”

“She did what she had to do at the time. A lot of us did,” Kassandra wasn’t smiling. “And now she’s grown up. You should try it.”

Odessa worked quietly for a few minutes, before she lowered the rope she was examining and looked over at her.

“Fair point Kassandra. Thyia said exactly the same thing. I guess when everyone’s telling you not to be an asshole, it means you’re an asshole, right? She just rubs me the wrong way at times. You can tell she’s used to having people jump when she says so, and with all due respect,  _ she _ isn’t my boss.”

“So stay out of her way,” Kassandra sighed. “Don’t keep looking for opportunities to poke the bear with a stick. Or if you simply must, then don’t come crying to me when it takes your arm off.”

“Well, you’d know all about that,” Odessa conceded. “I wouldn’t have gone with bear though,” she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You’re bearish. She’s more, leopard-like no?” she got to her feet, brushing her hands on her thighs. “I’m going to get a couple of lanterns, I can barely see what I’m doing, and I don’t want Gelon taking my other arm off because I’ve missed a frayed rope.”

By the time she returned, circles of warm lamplight bobbing about her feet with every step, Kassandra had almost finished what she was doing and was examining the bound sail out of the corner of her eye.

“I’ve nearly done here,” she glanced up. “I’ll move this sail next and then I want to go and check those barrels one last time.” She saw Odessa roll her eyes. “Not because I don’t think that they’re secure, I know they are. Because I gave my word that I would.”

“All right then. Far be it from me to hinder you from keeping your word. Let me finish up here and I’ll come and lend a hand. Barnabas suggested putting Xenia’s sails over them for a bit of weather proofing, that’ll be easier with two.”

Barnabas had wanted to discuss the following day’s transport negotiations with Kyra. Her success with the foreman at the opposite end of the diolkos had rather raised his hopes for a discount on the return journey too.

For her part Kyra tried to remind him that she hadn’t technically secured them any genuine reduction, merely ensured that they hadn’t been fleeced.

“Of course, of course, I see your point,” he gave her a companionable pat on the back as they strolled out of his cabin. “But forewarned is forearmed this time, no? It was the work of a moment for you to outwit that fellow at the other end. Perhaps it's time to turn the full force of your not inconsiderable charm on this one eh? He won’t know what’s hit him!” 

Kyra found herself the target of a disconcertingly conspiratorial wink.

“Barnabas!” she smiled despite herself. “Are you suggesting that I attempt to seduce the foreman in order to get us a discount?”

“I don’t think there’d be any  _ attempt _ about it, my dear. A lovely young woman like yourself.”

“That’s a scandalous suggestion, captain,” she laughed. “And I have no idea what Kassandra would say if I told her.”

“She would say start at twenty percent and work down from there,” he chuckled.

“I’ll see what I can manage. Without compromising myself,” she shook her head, smiling wryly.

“If all else fails, we can always call Kassandra to loom menacingly in the doorway again,” he grinned, wishing her a good night and retiring to his cabin.

Darkness had descended while they’d been talking. A handful of lanterns were dotted around the deck, providing small pools of warmth in contrast to the cool moonlight.

A long day of preparations and the anticipation of another long day ahead of them had tired the crew and the overall atmosphere was relaxed and quiet. The evening was humid and a number of them had come up on deck to sleep in the cooler air beneath the stars. 

A few groups were gathered chatting, sharing skins of wine and playing knuckle bones. Off in the shadows of the bow, vague but unmistakable movement suggested to Kyra that a handful of crew members might be indulging in games of a more intimate nature.

The thought turned her mind back to Kassandra. She was nowhere to be seen. Kyra assumed that she’d retired to their cabin. Feeling under the weather as she was, she wasn’t sure that she felt like paying particularly lively tribute to Aphrodite tonight. But she very much did want to curl up against Kassandra’s solid warmth, to feel the comfort of those powerful arms encircling her.

She felt weary and headachy, and cramps were gnawing at her pelvis now. As she made for their cabin, it occurred to her that Theis might have some useful remedy. The bitter concoction that she’d supplied for seasickness had worked very well after all. Kyra was not the only woman on board by any means, so the issue presumably arose with some regularity.  Unless silphium stopped your bleeds as well as preventing conception? She recalled the conversation she’d had with Kassandra on the journey out. That was something she should investigate further, perhaps with Nike she decided, as she made her way towards Theis’ cabin.

Her route took her past the open hatch to the hold and she was stopped in her tracks by the sound of conversation.

Kassandra was quite clearly  _ not  _ back in their cabin after all, any more than Odessa was in hers, Kyra realised, hearing their voices. Her immediate response was suspicion, but she quickly reproved herself.  They were in the part of the hold where Korax’s wine was stowed and were probably checking the security of the casks. Kassandra had promised that she would, and Odessa was no doubt just helping.

Kyra had almost convinced herself, when she heard low, musical laughter from Odessa, quickly followed by an exclamation of surprise. She took a step closer to the hatch and listened intently. There was Kassandra’s voice now, low and satisfied.

“I told you I was good with my hands!”

“Well, I already knew that, obviously. But I had no idea you could do  _ that _ !”

“People often don’t give me credit for learning new skills,” Kassandra’s tone was playful and Kyra felt a chill settle in her belly.

There was the sound of scuffling as they moved about in the close confines of the storage area, followed by another burst of laughter from Odessa, low and throaty this time.

“Gods Kassandra. I’d forgotten how much fun you can be!”

Kassandra’s delighted laugh hit Kyra like a physical blow. Ordinarily the sound of it was enough to warm something deep within her, but she’d been so preoccupied with her work of late that she couldn’t recall the last time _ she’d _ made Kassandra laugh like that.  This trip was supposed to provide a chance for relaxation but it had done anything but. They’d succeeded only in under thinking the parts that they hadn’t overthought. And now Kyra was losing herself in concerns about work again, before the Silver Islands were even in sight.

“We have  _ got _ to share this new talent with Thyia,” Odessa’s voice was richly suggestive.

“This particular talent isn’t new actually,” Kassandra sounded smug. “You’ve just never asked me to show you before.”

“Well, if I’d known how good you were! Come on, let’s go and astonish Thyia with your remarkable dexterity.”

“I don’t know,” Kassandra sounded suddenly reluctant. “I should really get back to Kyra.”

“Oh, see, now you’re not being fun at all,” Kyra could almost hear Odessa’s eyeroll. “I’m sure she’s already well aware of the full range of your abilities.”

“Actually,” Kassandra’s voice was wistful now. “I’ve never... I mean it just hasn’t happened, it’s never come up.”

“Well that’s sad, but not altogether surprising,” Odessa sounded sympathetic. “ _ Fun _ certainly isn’t the first word that springs to mind when you meet Kyra. She’s all efficiency.”

“That’s not fair!” Kassandra made a spirited attempt at defense. “It’s like I told Phoibe. Kyra’s a lot of fun when she’s not tied up with work.” 

Kyra took a step back, feeling sick and cold. Phoibe too? But then why  _ would _ she think that Kyra was fun, or that her company was enjoyable? What had she done to convince her of that during their stay?

Soon they would be back on Mykonos. Kyra would be back behind her desk with her head buried in paperwork again. Kassandra would be back laughing and joking with the villa staff. With the villa staff _ and  _ Phoibe now, of course. And Kyra would be listening to them from her office.

But it didn’t have to be like that, did it? She could balance things better, couldn’t she? She’d just never had any incentive to really try. But if they were going to attempt to mould themselves into some sort of family, then she could learn to relax more, learn to have fun, without feeling guilty about it, surely? She owed it to all of them to try.

The conversation below decks had continued while she was lost in thought, but Kassandra’s voice drew her back.

“All right, all right, I suppose so. But we’ll have to be quick. I don’t want to -”

“Leave Kyra on her own?” Odessa interrupted wearily. “Yes, yes. I’m fortunate enough to be well aware that you can be breathtakingly swift and efficient yourself when circumstances dictate.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Kassandra sounded sheepish. “Let’s not broadcast that too widely eh? Come on, let’s go find Thyia before I come to my senses and think better of this.”

Kyra suddenly felt sick and bolted for the stern. She’d felt queasy most of the day and had eaten little more than a handful of dry biscuits, so it was a sour, meagre offering she made to the fish.

She’d brought this on herself, she decided. Her jealousy and insecurity had given birth to a self fulfilling prophecy.  If she was going to repeatedly suspect Kassandra of fooling around with every woman who cast a flirtatious glance her way, then it was only a matter of time before she decided that she may as well be hanged for a goat as a kid.  She sank to the deck leaning back against the stern railing and watched miserably as the silhouetted figures of Kassandra and Odessa strolled towards the lieutenants’ cabins.

Propping her elbows on her knees she cradled her forehead in her hands and sighed. 

What had she expected, really? A bastard street orphan, the lover of Kassandra of Sparta? Legendary hero, mighty warrior, descendant of the great Leonidas himself? The wonder was that it had happened in the first place.  She closed her eyes. Unbidden, the big solemn face of Praxos loomed up in her mind’s eye. She heard his gruff, rumbly voice, which somehow always managed to soften for her.

  
  


_ “Unworthy! You?!” he sounded genuinely affronted as they sat together one evening, sharing a jug of wine, along with some snacks and a few tipsy confidences. _

_ “How dare you,” he put down his cup with such dramatic emphasis that a splash of wine spilled over, staining the table. _

_ “My sire was a bloodthirsty tyrant, Praxos. He could not have been a greater monster if he’d had the head of a bull.” _

_ “A bull’s head would have been a distinct improvement,” he picked up a small knife from the table and cut himself a piece of dried boar from one of the plates of food they had assembled. “You must get your looks from your mother, rest her spirit,” he muttered, chewing hard. _

_ “Really?” Kyra refilled their cups. “Explain Nike then?” _

_ He was quiet for a while, chewing thoughtfully on another piece of jerky. _

_ “You were both kissed in the cradle by Aphrodite herself,” he settled. “I don’t know. But rest assured, there’s not a hint of that bastard about you, I know that much.” _

_ “Technically I’m the bastard, my friend,” Kyra knew she was a little drunk and knew she wanted to be much drunker. “But it was his seed that took root after all.” _

_ “Aye, and no sooner had he come than he went,” Praxos sneered. “The monster never even held you. Do not give him a moment’s thought. And do not nurture this idea that you must somehow bear the punishment for his sins.” _

_ “You don’t believe that a bloodline can be tainted then?” she toyed with a handful of salted almonds. She should eat something. The wine was sitting sour in her stomach. _

_ “Are you going to tell me that you believe Nike is tainted?” he gave her a probing look. “That she deserves punishment for a man’s thoughtless pleasure? Because that’s what you’re saying, Kyra. Do you hear yourself?” _

_ The almonds fell to the table, scattering crystals of salt that pinkened and melted as they soaked up the spilt wine. _

_ There was a long, expectant silence before Kyra spoke. _

_ “What if she decides not to come back?”  _

_ She felt her lips trembling and blinked hard to disperse tears. She’d be damned if she’d sit here drunk and weepy, bemoaning a lost love with Praxos. A man who had sacrificed his own opportunities for love and family, in order to raise another man’s unwanted child. _

_ “Ah! Now we get to the bones of it,” he raised his chin. “It’s that bloody Spartan woman who’s got you so upset again.” He drained his wine, scowling darkly.  _ _ “If she decides not to come back, then she’s a bigger bloody fool than I take her for,” he refilled his cup. “And that’s saying something, because I already take her for quite a big, bloody fool.” _

_ There was another protracted silence, disapproving on Praxos’ part, mournful on Kyra’s. _

_ “I love her, Praxos,” she said at last, her voice barely above a whimper. “Despite everything. I love her.” _

_ He heaved a great, weary sigh and rubbed his meaty hands through his beard a few times. _

_ “I know, little Artemis, I know,” he shook his head, smiling wistfully at her. “I wish that you didn't, but it can’t be altered now, I don’t suppose.” _

_ “She’s a much better person than you think, Praxos,” Kyra said quietly. “There’s so much more to her than she reveals to everyone.” _

_ “I should hope so,” he muttered. Seeing her quizzical frown he elaborated. “If even half the tales of her womanizing are true then I don’t know if I should be impressed or appalled.” _

_ “Look,” he reached over the table and took Kyra’s hand in his. It looked tiny, nestled in his huge palm and he smiled, reminiscing. “Just don’t go harboring this idea that you’re somehow not worthy of her. She might be the grand-daughter of some big Spartan hero, but her own father threw her off a bloody cliff, Kyra! After his baby son!” Astonishment and horror rang in his voice. “His own children. She struggled for scraps growing up, just like you.” _

_ Kyra put down her cup and took his big, scarred hand in both of hers, tracing the knots of old battle wounds on his knuckles. _

_ “What I’m getting from these stories is that fathers aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” she smiled. “And that maybe you’re better off with an adoptive big brother?” _

_ A blush spread slowly up from beneath his beard and he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, in a gesture that reminded Kyra painfully of Kassandra. _

_ “Just promise me something little one?” he said, not meeting her eyes. “Think about this. I know that you’re in love with her. I understand that your world must seem empty without her but…” he tailed off, and for a moment Kyra thought his train of thought had run out of fuel, but taking a deep breath he pressed his free hand over hers. _

_ “When we were back with the rebellion,” he seemed to have changed track altogether. “It was, well it was hard to think about the future. When you weren’t sure if you’d survive the day it seemed foolish to nurse dreams. All the same though. When I watched you grow, from that gangly little girl, with her spindly arms and legs,” he shook his head, smiling fondly. “Into a strong, brave, beautiful young woman,” he reached up and cradled her cheek softly. “Well, I couldn’t help but think. About what the future held for you. What your life would be like when I was no longer there. Who would be with you to protect you and love you.” _

_ “Don’t Praxos,” she shook her head, feeling a lump growing in her throat. _

_ “There’s nothing to be gained by closing your eyes to the truth,” he smiled. “I would always come back to one dream, and I knew how dangerous it was, so I kept it close to my chest, so not even the Fates might hear of it.” _

_ “Then don’t speak it now,” she reached up and pressed her hand gently over his. _

_ “It was such an ordinary dream, little one. The one every father has I think...every human father,” he corrected darkly. “You, plump and happy, surrounded by your beautiful children, bouncing your grandchildren on your knee. I even dared dream that I’d live long enough to meet some of them, to hold them myself.” _

_ “Please stop, Praxos,” she felt a tear break free of her lashes and trail down her cheek. He stopped its progress with a calloused thumb before sitting back and taking up his wine cup again. _

_ “It was all I ever really wished for, for you. For Kyra the woman, not the rebel queen, or even the Archon, just for the person. That you could finally have that love and security that was...it wasn’t even stolen from you...it was never given to you in the first place. You were robbed of what every child should have. I just wished that you might be able to experience it at last. To have that comfort.” _

_ He looked down at the table, turning the cup between his fingers, watching the lamp light dance in the ripples of the ruby wine. _

_ “I’d never imagined a woman in there. Not because I think there’s anything wrong with it,” he added hastily, holding up a hand. “Just. Well, there are things that she won’t be able to give you Kyra. For all the tales of her incredible exploits, there are things even Kassandra of Sparta isn’t capable of. Just...just be sure that this is what you really want, Kyra.” _

_ “You’re describing your dream, Praxos,” she filled their cups. “And it’s a lovely dream. But it’s yours,” she sipped quietly for a moment then smiled.  _ _ “And besides, we both know that your children don’t have to come from your body, don’t we?” _

_ He drained his cup, placed it on the table and nodded. _

_ “Aye, little one, that we do. But remember this. No one ever handed Kyra of Mykonos anything. Everything she achieved, every victory she ever won was because she fought like an Amazon. If you’re not worthy of Kassandra of Sparta, then no one is!” _

  
  


A splash beside the hull shocked Kyra from her reverie. She lifted her head and stiffening her spine and her resolve, got to her feet.

Praxos was right. Of all the beds in all of the Aegean it was Kyra’s that Kassandra had decided to keep her boots under. Was she going to sit here sniveling, and let some interloping ex-girlfriend come and lure her away? The fuck she was! She set off for Odessa’s cabin.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that Kyra is an Olympic level conclusion jumper.

Stepping over a few sprawling legs, and returning the odd friendly greeting, Kyra made her way to the cabins.

Passing Gelon’s door, she could see a sliver of lamplight bleeding under it and hear soft conversation punctuated by occasional laughter from Phoibe.

There was lamplight peeping under Odessa’s door as well she saw, coming to a stop and raising her hand to knock. Conversation too. She leaned in and listened.

“Oh gods! That’s so good.” Thyia sounded profoundly impressed. “I would never have believed it. With just one hand!”

Kyra felt her shoulders tightening. She genuinely liked Thyia, had thought...hoped… that Thyia liked her too. 

She’d talked about this with Kassandra at one time, how she feared that her youth spent predominantly among men, and pretty rough men at that, had left her at a disadvantage when trying to make friends with women.

Kassandra had laughed and told her that thinking about them as people, rather than women would help. And, she’d pointed out, smiling foxily, Kyra had “made friends” with her hadn’t she?

They’d got a little side tracked by other things then, so Kyra hadn’t been able to glean any further tips. She felt genuinely hurt and disappointed now though as she heard Thyia’s playful giggling.

“I told you she was good, no?” Odessa’s grin was audible in her voice. “I mean I’ve seen it before but, gods, Kassandra is really good at it.”

What the fuck was she doing with them exactly?! Kyra abandoned the idea of knocking and grabbed the door handle.

“Do that again,” Thyia laughed. “Please Kassandra? No, not that. The thing with both hands. Only more slowly please, I want to see just how you do it.”

Yes, so do I, thought Kyra, throwing open the door with such force that it flew back and knocked over a stool that had held a jug of wine. It tumbled to the floor, the contents flooding the boards, but amazingly didn’t break.

The cabin was dim, lit by just one lantern.

As Kyra had expected, all three women were bundled together in the bunk. What she had not anticipated, however, was that they would all be fully dressed, and that Odessa would be sitting back, cross legged, leaning against the wall of the bunk, holding the sole source of illumination, while Kassandra sprawled in front of her, taking up much of the bed, with Thyia crouched on her knees almost on top of her.

“Fuck’s sake woman!” Odessa exclaimed, fumbling with the lantern. “I could have set the bloody bed alight. What’s the matter with you?”

“Gods, Kyra!” Thyia had a hand clutched to her chest. “You nearly stopped my heart. What is it? Oh gods, is it Phoibe? Has something happened to Phoibe?”

At the suggestion Kassandra sat up sharply, cracking her head on the top of the bunk.

“Shit!” she muttered. “Is she not well? Do I need to get Theis?”

Kyra felt a pang of guilt that this was everyone’s first thought.

“No, no!” she held up a hand. “She’s fine, I heard her talking with Gelon.”

“Then what the hell are you doing, kicking the bloody door in like we’ve stolen your horse?!” Odessa was wiping a spill of oil from her arm.

She shot a look at Kyra and her frown slowly melted into a smirk of realization. For a moment Kyra thought that Odessa was going to speak. That she was going to follow her question to its all too accurate conclusion. Instead she closed her mouth, her lips pursed into a tight line of annoyance, and waited, fixing Kyra with a challenging look, daring her to say she was wrong.

“I…” Kyra was suddenly at a loss for words. She’d no idea what they’d been doing, but it was clearly something innocuous. “What...what are you doing?”

Kassandra was absently rubbing her head, and frowning curiously at her, but brightened at the query.

“Shadow play!” she grinned happily. “See,” she held up a hand, and then nudged Odessa. “Hold up the lantern.”

“Yes, all very well for you to say,” she grumbled, “You’re not the one who burned their thumb,” she raised the light all the same.

“Do the one with two hands,” Thyia patted Kassandra’s arm excitedly. “The whatsit...damn, what do you call them, the snake hair thing?”

“Gorgon,” Kassandra beamed affably, interlacing her fingers.

Kyra followed everyone’s gaze to the opposite wall. Odessa had shuttered the lantern so that the light was directed there. In the warm yellowish glow Kyra watched as Kassandra moved her fingers and a snarling head, topped by writhing serpents appeared.

“That’s so good!” Thyia was bouncing a little on her knees, making the shadow jump.

“Calm down, watch the lamp!” Odessa warned, but she was laughing at her delight all the same.

“Oh oh!” Thyia grabbed Kassandra’s arm. “Show Kyra her dog! Do Orion for her!”

“Oh, he’s not very good yet,” she demurred.

“You can totally tell that it’s him, go on. Please?”

Kassandra shook her head, laughing bashfully and moved a little more upright in the bed. “Okay, but he’s not right yet,” she locked her hands together and Kyra saw the unmistakable jowly profile of her beloved pet. “His ear isn’t right,” Kassandra was critiquing herself. “It’s because I broke that finger when I was a kid. I had it set, but, I was impatient, I didn’t let it heal properly, but if I…”

Oh gods, Kyra felt queasy with guilt and shame. They had just been playing. Kyra hadn’t even known that Kassandra could do this. She’d learned for Phoibe perhaps? Or for her own entertainment as a lonely child? 

At any rate she still practiced regularly enough that she was trying to catch Orion’s likeness. And when did she do that? Evenings alone? When Kyra was buried in meetings and contracts? Had she ever tried to show her? Some vague, hopeful suggestion one night when Kyra had fallen into bed exhausted? Had she brushed it off? Pressed a kiss to her cheek and suggested that she tell her in the morning?

“Sit down, Kyra,” Thyia grinned, interrupting her thoughts. “Get the stool….” she tailed off suddenly “Wait. What_ did _you come in for, if there’s nothing wrong with Phoibe?” 

Kassandra was making a different dog now. With a long muzzle. She made it bark as she turned her head to look at Kyra.

Standing in the doorway, looking at the trio on the bed, watching suspicion evolve into realization on Thyia’s face, Kyra was at a loss for how to reply.

“Oh gods…” all the child-like excitement had faded from Thyia’s voice. “Oh gods, Kyra. You thought that...you thought we were…” the dog’s mouth lolled open, then its whole head fell apart as Kassandra sat up, more carefully this time.

“Holy shit!” Odessa exclaimed, triumph in her tone as she put the lantern down on the small table by the bed. “I was right! You totally did, didn’t you?” she stared at Kyra.

“Oh gods, you thought we were fucking in here?” Thyia sounded deflated.

Kyra couldn’t remember if she’d ever heard coarse language from Thyia before, but had to admit it was only appropriate right now.

“Of course she did, treasure,” Odessa drew her knowing gaze reluctantly from Kyra’s guilty face to address Thyia. “If Kassandra’s out of her sight for more than five minutes at a time, she immediately assumes she’s fucking someone else.”

“No, I…” she tripped over her own tongue, wondering how best to explain. Kyra saw Kassandra’s shoulders droop a little. She had imagined disappointment on her face when she’d inadvertently shot the doe. She wasn’t imagining it now.

Thyia was clambering over Kassandra’s legs with the sort of casual intimacy that would have made her jealous just a few minutes earlier, but right now there was only room for guilt.

“Don’t do that,” Thyia was just a couple of steps away now, looking intently at her, a frown creasing her pretty brow. “Don’t say no, when the answer is so obviously yes. I’ve heard you called a few things Archon, but never a coward. Have the decency to admit the truth. Why would you think such a thing?” she sounded genuinely curious.

Kyra was trying to recover from the sting of her title. She’d heard it used in a number of different contexts, it had to be said, but none had hurt quite as sharply as this.

“I’m sorry. I clearly got the wrong end of the stick,” she couldn’t hold Thyia’s gaze for very long. “I heard Kassandra and Odessa talking and- “

“Immediately assumed we were up to no good?” Odessa was sitting beside Kassandra on the bunk now, drumming her heels against the side.

“So, what?” Thyia’s frown was deepening. “You heard them talking about what? Coming back here to make shadow puppets?”

“It didn’t sound like that when they were talking,” Kyra's defense sounded lame to her own ears.

“So why didn’t you go and challenge them?” Thyia gave a quizzical shrug. “Why wait until they were in here and we were...oh!” her eyebrows drifted up. “You wanted to catch us at it, is that it? It wasn’t enough to know it was going to happen, you had to catch us in the act?”

“Thyia, I’m sorry,” Kyra held out her hands, her voice plaintive. “I jumped to conclusions and I was wrong this time, but you have to admit that you and Odessa have, I mean the two of you sometimes, you…” she had no idea how to continue.

“Invite other women into our bed?” Thyia took a step forward. “Yes. Yes we do, sometimes. But only with everyone’s approval. It’s for pleasure, Kyra, for fun, not to cause pain. Be quiet Odessa,” she cut off her muttered aside. “We’ve never done it with anyone behind their partner’s back, I swear. Though I don’t really know why I should be defending myself to you.” 

She was talking through tears now, tears that trickled incongruously from beneath her eye-patch Kyra noticed. That was something she’d never considered. She felt awful that this should be how she was becoming aware of the possibility.

“And I’ll tell you something else,” Thyia was half sobbing now and Kyra saw Odessa hopping off the bunk and coming over, her face darkening. “You owe Kassandra an apology. Because she hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since, since we...” she sniffed and frowned thoughtfully.

“Since that _ second _time we left Mykonos with her upset, presumably because of something you’d said,” Odessa supplied, stopping next to Thyia and slipping a gentle arm around her hips. “Shh now, don’t cry, treasure,” she reached up and brushed the tears from her cheeks, her tone so low the words were clearly only intended for Thyia’s ears.

“Right, I think that even though this has been a misunderstanding, you owe Thyia and Odessa an apology,” Kassandra had been silent up till now, but she got to her feet, looking weary.

“_ You _ stay the fuck out of this!” Odessa turned sharply and held up a silencing finger. “Sit down and make a Minotaur or something. _ You _, Archon,” she directed the finger at Kyra. “You need to apologise to Thyia all right, and you need to get a fucking grip of yourself,” her voice was loud enough now to carry past Kyra and out of the cabin. “You need to trust the woman you claim to love, because Thyia’s quite right. Kassandra hasn’t looked at another woman since that visit. And I don’t know what you said to her then, but she didn’t come out of her cabin for three days.”

“That’s not really anything to do with this, or you,” Kyra felt herself beginning to bristle at the finger in her chest.

“Excuse me!” Odessa withdrew her finger but only to throw wide her arms. “I think it _ is _ to do with me, when you bring my lover to tears. When you come kicking in our cabin door hoping to find us fucking your...whatever you consider her, then it is my-"

“What do you mean, whatever I consider her?” Kyra snapped. “Our relationship is _ our _ business, and it wouldn’t even be an issue if you could refrain from rubbing up against her every time she walks past you.”

“Now wait,” Thyia interjected quietly.

“Not now, treasure,” Odessa held up a hand. “Listen!” she turned back to Kyra, only to find that she was through the door and out onto the deck. “Oy, don’t you walk away. We’re not done here yet.”

“Yes we are,” Kyra glanced back over her shoulder. “We can discuss this tomorrow, when we’ve all calmed down a bit.”

“The fuck we will, we’ll discuss it now,” Odessa marched after her and grabbed her shoulder. Kassandra’s muffled “oh shit!” drifted from the cabin. “You’re not the fucking Archon _ here _ you know!”

“Take your hands off me, right now!” Kyra turned, hissing.

A crowd of interested crew members had begun to cluster around, and the raised voices had lured Gelon and Phoibe out of their cabin. They stood leaning against the door, chewing on the last of the dried squid that Sophitia had provided.

“Or else _ what _?” Odessa sneered. “You’ll send one of your staff to deal with me?”

“I’m more than capable of dealing with you myself, Odessa.”

“So you say. And maybe you were at one time. Well I assume so, but having said that, you had to get two Spartans in to do your job for you even then, didn’t you?”

“What did you say?” Kyra’s fists were so tight now she could feel her nails digging into her palms.

“You bloody heard me. One of each,” Odessa taunted. “Good job you had a spare as it turned out, mind you.”

Kassandra’s “oh shit!” was a good deal louder this time and she began to make her way through the gathering audience. It was a difficult job though. Anywhere else she towered head and shoulders over most people, but she’d amassed a brawny crew for the ship, and they were in no mood to give up ring side seats for this drama.

“Watch your mouth Odessa or I swear to Artemis,” Kyra was so blinded by anger that she was barely even aware of the crowd around her, of Kassandra awkwardly shouldering her way between grumbling rowers, of Gelon and Phoibe gnawing on dried squid and watching with open fascination, of Barnabas appearing at the helm in just his perizoma to see what in Hades was going on at this time of night.

She was aware of nothing but Odessa, right in her face, scowling darkly as she sneered.

“You, Archon, are such a basket of confused insecurities and pompous self importance that I wouldn’t be surprised if that young Spartan lad threw himself on his own sword, just to be rid of you.”

There was a chorus of "oohs" as Kyra’s fist connected with Odessa’s jaw, sending an elegant arc of bloody droplets flying into the closest observers. Kassandra’s third “oh shit!” was the loudest yet, and in perfect harmony with Thyia’s. She was following in Kassandra’s hard fought wake, but progress was slow. Kassandra could hear rowers starting to make bets on the winner now.

“Right, that’s enough, get back to your cabins, the lot of you, there’s nothing to see here!” she bellowed.

No one paid a blind bit of notice to such a blatant lie, even when Barnabas bustled up to add his backing.

Odessa had returned Kyra’s straight right with some venom, catching her just below the eye as the deck swayed a little. The movement threw her off balance, stumbling into Kyra, shoulder first.

“See, she mistimed that,” Gelon explained to Phoibe. “Fucking schoolboy error for a sailor, she should be able to feel the breath of the ship by now. She’s too fucking impetuous.”

The loss of balance ended up working in Odessa’s favour, Kyra’s next swing was already underway but had been aimed at where she had been, not where she was now, and it skated past her cheekbone.

“Will you heedless ruffians get back to your bunks!” Barnabas sounded desperate. If anything the audience was closing ranks, clustering tighter as the brawl continued.

Odessa recovered herself enough to use the unexpected change in impetus against Kyra. She lowered her head and shouldered hard into her midriff. Ordinarily it would have been of minor impact, Kyra was bigger than Odessa by some way, but a blow to the belly was the last thing she needed at the moment. Grunting with pain she took a couple of hasty steps back, pulling Odessa with her. For a moment they clung together like lovers, Odessa’s arms around Kyra, fighting to keep their balance as the deck rose again.

“This is a fucking terrible fight,” Gelon shook her head, taking another strip of squid from the bag. “Uncoordinated buggers, the pair of them. Fighting like two blind men.”

Kassandra was still inching her way to the front when she heard this. She turned and frowned at them.

“Phoibe, back to bed, right now. I’ll be with you in a minute!”

“She fucking won’t,” Gelon laughed. “They’ll have bitch slapped each other to unconsciousness by the time she gets there. If they can ever fucking connect that is. Always be aware of your surroundings, Phoibe,” she patted her head.

“Mmm, that’s what Kassandra says,” Phoibe chewed thoughtfully.

“I bet she fucking does,” Gelon nodded. “Now _ there’s _ a woman who can fucking fight! Not that violence solves things of course,” she added quickly.

“No, no, of course not,” Phoibe smiled. “She says that too.”

Odessa had clearly hoped to take advantage of her grip around Kyra’s hips to barrel her to the floor, but to her surprise she took an abrupt step to the side, turned Odessa sharply and sent her slamming into the corner of the deck railing. The blow was heavy enough to break Odessa’s grip and leave her doubled over, nursing her ribs and struggling to regain her breath. There was a murmur of approval from the audience.

Before Odessa could fully recover, Kyra had hold of two fistfuls of the front of her tunic. She was strong enough, and Odessa small enough, that she was able to lift her almost off her feet, leaving her toes barely scraping the deck.

Kyra leaned in, glaring into Odessa’s still surprisingly lively eyes.

“How dare you speak about -” 

She didn’t get the chance to complete her sentence. Odessa drew back her head, cobra-swift and headbutted her right in the face. A positive tidal wave of wincing "oohs" rippled through the audience.

“Aw fuck!” Kassandra growled. “Get out of the damn way, you lot!”

She watched in dismay as Kyra took a couple of stumbling, half dazed steps back, still clutching the front of Odessa’s tunic, dragging her with her as they teetered on the very edge of the deck. For a moment it looked as if they might stay there and regain their balance. 

The audience held their breath. 

Then the deck swayed once more and they disappeared over the side.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Kassandra snapped.

“Language, Kassandra,” Phoibe’s voice drifted over the heads of the rowers as they swarmed as one over to the rails to check proceedings.

“Bed, Phoibe!” Kassandra shouted as she was carried along with them.

“Well I wouldn’t have predicted that,” Gelon shook her head.

“That was all because of sex somehow, right?” Phoibe frowned quizzically as they turned to go back into the cabin. 

“Likely as fucking not, aye.”

“I don’t understand it really,” Phoibe shook her head. “I mean, I get what goes where, but I don’t get why?”

“Youngster, I’m not always sure myself,” Gelon patted her head. “There’s times, don’t get me wrong, when I yearn for the company of a woman, when I ache for a soft body in my arms. And then there’s times, like this, when I think to myself, don’t be a fucking idiot Gelon you daft bastard, stick to your sewing. Come on, I’ll teach you a stitch for those shells.”

Kassandra managed to get to the rail as everyone spread out for a better look. She peered anxiously over the side, worried that one or both of them might have lost consciousness before they hit the water. To her relief they were both bobbing at the surface and, it appeared, still sniping at each other.

“Oh gods,” Thyia’s weary sigh came from beside her. “It’s always Odessa. Why is it always Odessa?”

Kassandra gazed down at her and wrapped a sympathetic arm around her shoulders.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly.

“Hmm?” Thyia looked up and gave it a moment’s thought. “Yes, I suppose so. Well I will be when we get my idiot lover back on deck. But...I thought Kyra liked me,” she finished softly. “Why would she think I’d do something like that?”

“Oh gods, Thyia,” Kassandra hugged her a bit tighter and bent to press a kiss to her head. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you. She...I…”

“Mmm, she’ll be sorry in the morning I suppose,” Thyia nodded. “Can we get them back on board, before they get eaten by sharks or something?”

A faint squeaky exclamation of “sharks?!” came from the water.

“There’s no sharks, calm yourselves,” Kassandra called down. “Right!” she turned, drawing herself up to her full height. “Back to your fucking cabins the rest of you, right now! That’s your entertainment over for the evening. Go!”

Like a group of naughty children recognizing that they’d gone as far as was going to be permitted, they began to disperse, some of them debating the outcome of their wagers. Basileos and Barnabas came striding up at this point, Basileos with ropes slung over his beefy shoulders.

“Get Odessa will you Basileos, please?” Kassandra uncoiled a rope and hefted one end in Kyra’s direction. When she was sure that she had a good hold she hauled her a little closer to the side of the ship before leaning over and shouting.

“Hang fire there for a moment, let’s get Odessa up first.”

As she was hauled, coughing and spluttering onto deck, Theis appeared, hair loose, wearing just a light linen nightshirt.

“What’s been going on here?” she took up position beside Barnabas, who was evidently trying to keep his eyes to himself, without total success. “Someone said there’d been a fight and my services might be required? Odessa?” she cocked her head quizzically. “Why is it...well, not _ always _ you, but it so often is?”

“Just what I was saying?” Thyia sighed, but she was examining her lover for damage all the same.

Watery blood filmed the lower half of her face, mainly from her bleeding nose, but some, brighter and thicker now that the seawater was dispersing, was flowing from a gash across the bridge of it. One eye was already swelling shut. She was grinning shamelessly.

“I don’t know why you’re looking so damn pleased with yourself,” Thyia sounded a little tearful, probably a result of the evening as a whole Kassandra reflected, peering down to make sure that Kyra was all right. She was grumbling and spitting out water. She could bob there for a little while longer, she decided.

“Last punch,” Odessa grinned, wiping her mouth with her hand and running her tongue around her teeth, cautiously checking for damage. “I begin to see what you see in her now, commander,” she gave a clumsy, ineffective wink.

“Stop it!” Thyia reproved. “None of this is funny. Look at you,” her lips began to tremble. “And you should_ not _have said what you did about that young Spartan. That was cruel.”

Odessa saw how upset she was and looked down at her feet for a moment.

“Yes, you’re right,” she conceded. “It was below the belt. I’ll apologise. I just..she should have thought about how what she was saying would upset you,” she reached up and cradled Thyia’s cheek with a wet, bloody hand. “I hate to see you cry. Oh look, don’t cry _ now _. Come here,” she pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead, leaving a bloody imprint. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I will be anyway when Theis has given me a going over…” she gave her a playfully saucy look, but the effect was disconcerting given her bloodied nose and blackening eyes.

“Don’t even start,” Theis folded her arms and shook her head disapprovingly. “No one will be giving anyone a going over once the pain from that nose kicks in. And whilst this is all touchingly romantic, isn’t there another combatant over the side? Let’s assess the damage, decide who takes priority.”

“I’ve already decided,” Kassandra was hauling in the rope, the great muscles of her shoulders and thighs bunching with the effort.

“And since when are you a healer?” Theis arched an eyebrow. _ “I’ll _ decide who gets seen first, commander. That’s the way it goes.”

“Odessa gets seen first,” Kassandra said firmly, reaching down and taking Kyra’s hand to pull her aboard.

She knelt on all fours for a while, coughing and vomiting up seawater, while Theis watched in astonishment.

“Archon?” she frowned, bemused.

“Well fought Archon,” Odessa chimed in before Kyra could respond. “I was wrong, maybe you do still have it. Or you would, if you could ever hit what you’re aiming for.”

“That’s enough!” Thyia took her arm. “Back to the cabin, not another word.”

“Go sort her out Theis, please?” Kassandra helped Kyra to her feet, spluttering and wiping her eyes.

Blood was running down from a gash above her eyebrow. Its stinging flow and the swelling from Odessa’s headbutt had all but closed one eye, and she gave Theis an apologetic, lopsided look.

“I’ll check this eye,” Theis was resolute, “and if it’s just stitching the cut, fair enough. Don’t argue with me, commander.”

She led Kyra over to where a lamp hung at the base of the mast, and examined her, easing open her eye and examining it carefully.

“Right,” she announced at last. “Let me get my things. I’ll be doing more stitching than Gelon tonight by the looks of it.”

There was an awkward, embarrassed silence once she’d left. Basileos excused himself as rapidly as possible, gathering up the heavy, wet ropes and taking them off to stow safely.

“Well,” Barnabas sighed, mustering a surprising amount of dignity for a man who’d been roused unexpectedly from his bed, in just his underwear. “I have no idea what that was all about,” he darted a look from Kassandra to Kyra and back again. “And I’m not sure that I want to. But suffice it to say, I don’t like brawling on my ship. And if we hadn’t been safely anchored, that could have been a much more dangerous and complicated matter.”

“Yes,” Kyra didn’t meet his eyes. “I can imagine that. I’m very sorry Barnabas. Truly. It was uncalled for. It won’t happen again.”

“I should hope not,” he sniffed, bracing his hands awkwardly on his hips and tapping his foot. “Well. I’m going back to bed. Hopefully there will be no further disturbances tonight?” he couldn’t maintain his stern demeanor for any longer though. “You’re all right, are you?” he placed a gentle hand on Kyra’s shoulder. “No real damage to your eye?”

“No. Theis says not,” Kyra shook her head, clearly embarrassed. “Nothing really hurt but my pride I assure you Barnabas.”

“Good, good...well, that’s good,” he swung his hands distractedly by his sides. “Bed now, for me that is. Goodnight, both of you.”

Kassandra said very little as she helped Kyra back to the cabin. Leaving her to change out of her wet clothes she went to check on Odessa. She was grumbling a little as Theis worked. Unsurprising given the awkward place for the stitches, Kassandra sympathized. It was a smaller wound than it had first appeared though, and quickly closed.

Kyra’s took longer. She was sitting on the bed, in dry underwear, toweling her hair, when they entered. Kassandra perched on the table to watch as Theis turned up the lantern and set to work. Seeing Kyra begin to shiver a little a few stitches in, Kassandra unearthed an extra blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Well!” Theis gathered up her tools at last and cast a final look over her handiwork. She’d used the finest thread and very small stitches, Kassandra observed, clearly giving some considerable care to the final scar. 

“I’ve done my very best, but you will have a reminder,” Theis warned. “That will make you look more mysterious and dangerous over the negotiating table eh?”

“No doubt,” Kyra smiled and took her hand briefly. “Thank you, Theis. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“No trouble,” she smiled, making for the door. “If it wasn’t for the regular brawls I’d barely earn my keep. If there’s anything else that you need, just send Kassandra.”

When she’d left, Kassandra closed the door gently behind her, leaned back against it and looked across the cabin. Kyra was still clearly embarrassed by the whole incident. She had barely met her eyes whilst Theis was stitching the wound and now she seemed about to busy herself tidying up her wet clothing.

“Hey, here, let me do that,” Kassandra strode over and urged her to sit back down. “It’ll hurt like blazes if you start bending over. Are you sure you don’t want me to go and get something for the pain?”

“Pain?” Kyra shook her head. “Hardly, Kassandra. It’s just a few stitches. How’s Odessa?” she asked with feigned casualness.

“Odessa’s fine,” Kassandra was gathering up her clothes, hanging them over a chair to dry. “Thyia’s pain is a little more significant,” she glanced back over her shoulder and caught Kyra’s wince. “She thought you were friends.”

“Oh gods,” Kyra’s face crumpled. “I...I’m such an idiot.”

“Well, for once, I’m not going to argue the point. Though I do recall saying on the journey over that this was a chance for you to reconnect with your fiery rebel self, so perhaps this is partly my -” she stopped abruptly.

Kyra looked up. Kassandra was standing by the table, with Kyra’s discarded perizoma in one hand and a bloodstained cloth in the other, observing her with a meaningful expression.

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to get you something for the pain?” she tilted her head. “Theis has this powder, it’s apparently very effective, tastes better than those bloody sea sickness pills too by all accounts.”

“Kassandra,” Kyra got to her feet and made to take the cloths from her, but she dropped them on the table and taking her arms, led her back to the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m sorry I didn’t realise,” she crouched down before her, taking her hands. “Let me go and get you some of that remedy from Theis, I won’t be a minute.”

“No,” Kyra kept hold of her hands and pulled her back down. “Kassandra, I’m not blaming...that!” she waved a hand in the general direction of the door and all that lay beyond, “on that!” she nodded to the bloody cloth.

“No, neither am I,” she shook her head. “But it doesn’t help, right? Let me go see Theis,” she got to her feet.

“Please don’t,” Kyra shook her head. “I don’t want everyone thinking that it was... that all _ that _ was because _ that’s what women are like _,” her sneering sing song was clearly echoing something she’d heard more than once in the past.

“Just as well that Theis would never breathe a word about a patient then,” Kassandra smiled. “Get into bed. I won’t be long.”

When she returned, she had a jug of spiced wine in one hand, and in the other a smaller jug filled with warm water.

“Here we go,” she filled a cup with a mixture of both and came over to the bunk, sitting beside Kyra and producing a small pouch from the pocket of her tunic. “Theis recommended putting a big pinch right in your mouth and washing it down, rather than spoiling a whole cup of wine,” she smiled.

Kyra meekly followed the instructions, grimacing a little as the fine powder caught in the back of her throat.

“I will apologise in the morning,” she said quietly.

“To who?” Kassandra arched an eyebrow. “Who to? To whom? Whom.. to?” she frowned playfully.

“Definitely not the last one,” Kyra gave a weak smile. “To everyone. But especially to Thyia. I’ve made a mess of that, haven’t I?”

“I can’t lie,” Kassandra sighed. “I think you have a bit, yes.” She looked at her for a few moments, without speaking. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“You could come to bed?” Kyra suggested cautiously. “Please?”

Kassandra laughed and shook her head. “I was thinking that you might want something to eat, perhaps?” she got to her feet, taking the empty cup from her.

“No, I’m not hungry. I’d just...I’d just like you to come to bed?”

Kyra sounded as though she thought her request might be denied and Kassandra gave her a quick, reassuring smile before pulling off her tunic and folding it neatly. Kyra inched up a little to make some room and Kassandra snuggled in beside her, wrapping her in the warm embrace that she’d been imagining earlier, before she made such a mess of things.

“I’m so sorry Kassandra,” she said quietly. “That was an unforgivable thing to do.”

“What? Start a fight with Odessa?” she tilted her head and glanced down at her. “Half the crew have done that at one time or another.”

“Not me though,” Kyra shook her head. “She shouldn’t have said that though, about -” she couldn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t need to.

“I know. And so does she. That was cruel and below the belt and she knows it. But...look, Kyra, can you explain it to me? Why do you get like this? Has someone betrayed you in the past? Is it just me, because of _ my _ past? How can I convince you that I’m not going to stray?”

“It’s not your problem, my love,” Kyra sighed. “It’s my flaw._ I _ need to stop it.”

“If it’s your problem, then it’s my problem too,” Kassandra corrected kindly. “And sometimes, like tonight, it’s everyone’s problem. Let’s get comfy here, and talk to me.”

She shifted a little to allow Kyra to roll over and curl around her, her head on Kassandra’s chest, her arm around her waist.

“Okay?” she pulled her in tight and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Now, why on earth did you think that I would go and have a threesome with Odessa and Thyia, right under your nose? That would be ridiculous, no?”

“I see that now, obviously,” Kyra nodded, hearing the slow steady beat of Kassandra’s heart, the soft rhythm of her breath, feeling the solid warmth of her body beside her. “But it didn’t seem so in the moment. I love you so much Kassandra, and sometimes I just don’t understand why you’re here with me, what I could have done to deserve you. It feels like it must be a mistake, some divine oversight, and the gods will notice one day and take you away.”

“The gods will have a fight on their hands,” Kassandra’s words were teasing and disrespectful, but her tone was solemn. “I’m here with you because I love you. Because I’ve never loved a woman the way I love you. And I swear Kyra, there are times when I feel just the same myself, when I wonder what I could have done to earn this happiness.”

She felt Kyra’s disbelieving huff against her chest.

“What _ you _ could have done?” she heard her say quietly. “You? The grand-daughter of the great Leonidas himself. Lying here, with the bastard offspring of a murderous tyrant in her arms, when you could have a queen.”

“I _have_ a queen,” Kassandra whispered, nosing into her damp hair. “The only queen I want. And as for Leonidas? I never knew him. He never bounced me on his knee and told me stories of his exploits. Never taught me to fish or ride or swim. My real father never even saw me, and my stepfather? My loving stepfather watched my little brother thrown off a cliff and then he dropped me after him. So let’s not start comparing monsters, my love. I was no child of love, or desire, or even base lust. I was bred, like a racehorse. My pedigree bears no scrutiny. I was raised by a man who found me on the beach like a piece of flotsam. I’m not special, no more so than anyone else.”

Kyra raised herself up on one elbow and looked down at her. Her handsome face was sombre now, her brows creased and there was a familiar sadness in those lovely eyes.

“Kassandra?” she reached out and stroked the planes of her cheek, the angle of her jaw. “You’re wrong. I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. When you were just a little girl you stood up against a group of adults who were trying to kill your baby brother. When your stepfather stood back and permitted it, you ran forward. You’ve always been a hero, ever since you were a child.”

She allowed her fingers to drift lower, to trace the muscles of her throat and shoulders, to creep along the hard line of her collarbone.

“I knew you were special from the moment I saw you, from the instant I laid eyes on you.”

“Which was?” Kassandra laughed softly. “Before or after you launched a dagger at my head?”

Kyra was quiet for a moment, Kassandra could almost hear her considering before she spoke again.

“That thing with the dagger?” she said quietly. “I practiced that every day. It was still reckless, but perhaps not quite as reckless as it looked at first glance. Before you came swaggering into the cave, I’d pulled that on…” she thought hard. “Six, I think, previous visitors. One fainted, I distinctly recall a big fellow wetting himself when he realised I hadn’t been looking, and I took the end off a third man’s nose.”

“So, the odds were fifty-fifty,” Kassandra laughed. “I’ve gone in on worse. Unless you killed the other three of course?”

“No, I was pretty good with them,” Kyra ran her fingers across the muscles of Kassandra’s chest, skirting the edge of her strophion, feeling for the subtle transition from hard muscle to soft breast. “One of my scouts told me a “big mercenary” was coming, “tall, very tall”. Honestly, I was expecting a man. When I turned and saw _ you _ standing there with half a dozen blades to your throat, smirking like you knew you could take them all...”

Her hand cradled Kassandra’s breast for a moment, feeling her nipple tensing beneath her touch. She caressed a little more firmly, hearing her breath catch, before continuing down, stroking the flat of her palm along the warm muscles of her torso.

“Gods, Kassandra. Everything about you glowed! Your armour, your skin, your eyes. I saw you for what you were, what you _ are _ Kassandra. And I offered silent thanks to Artemis for at last sending us her hero.”

Kassandra opened her mouth to protest. Kyra could feel her drawing breath to deny it and placed her fingers to her lips to silence her. Tracing the soft lines of her mouth she wondered at her. She was a creature of such contrasts. The warm satin of her lips. Her strong, calloused hands. Despite her efforts with pumice and oil, a lifetime of work and battle had left them knotted with scars and hard with callouses. She could feel them even now as Kassandra stroked gently at the small of her back.

She felt the hard muscle of her arm clench as she hugged Kyra closer, brushing her lips against her cheek as she did so. 

During the rebellion Kyra had seen those strong hands, those powerful arms, turn a man’s head through a hundred and eighty degrees, leaving him staring out astonished, between his own shoulder blades. Then, not half an hour later, Kassandra had coaxed a terrified old lady out of hiding. Lifting her gently and cradling her to her chest, shielding her so she couldn’t see the corpses of her grandchildren. Kyra had watched as she carried her to safety, pressing a purse of looted coin into her trembling hands before leaving her with a group of survivors.

“There are so many reasons why I love you, Kassandra,” she breathed. “I know that I don’t deserve you,” she stopped her protest with a kiss, wondering again at the warm, pliant lips against hers, melting a little at her soft sigh. “I don’t deserve you,” she drew back, ever so slightly, breathing the words into her mouth. “But then neither does anyone else. And no one else _ needs _ you as much as I do.” 

Kassandra’s hand skated up her back, tracing the supple line of her spine, settling to cradle the back of her head, to ease her down into the kiss, teasing the crease of her lips with a playful tongue.

“I make a point of being where I’m needed, whenever possible,” she broke the kiss to whisper the words against her ear. 

“I am going to try, Kassandra,” Kyra pressed a lingering kiss to the hollow of her throat. “I am going to _ try _ to be a better person. For you, for Phoibe, for me. I swear.”

“All right, my love,” she stroked a tendril of damp hair back out of Kyra’s eyes. “Let’s both try and earn each other then eh?”

Kyra nodded, leaning forward, kissing her again, more deeply this time. She’d eaten something while she was with Theis, or chewed something, fennel perhaps? Something warm and earthy. As she licked into the wet heat of her mouth she felt her chuckling quietly and drew back, feeling her own pulse quickening as she looked into Kassandra’s darkening eyes, saw her cautiously playful expression.

“I take it Theis’ magical concoction is working?” her smile broadened at Kyra’s nod. “Well, you know what _ else _ is very good for easing the discomfort?” she slipped her hand, slow and teasing down Kyra’s back, her fingertips running the length of her spine, till she settled on her ass, squeezing firmly. “Let’s give it a try shall we?”

  
  



	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we approach the end of our ocean voyage, thankfully before any crew members kill one another.

When she woke the following morning, Kassandra was disappointed to find that Kyra had somehow managed to climb out of bed without waking her. She pressed her face into the pillow and breathed in her scent for a while before yawning expansively and rolling onto her back. A different scent greeted her now. Warm bread and herbs. She brushed her messy hair back from her face and rubbed her eyes as she sat up. Swinging her feet over the side of the bunk she trod on a folded piece of papyrus. Bending to pick it up she instantly recognised Kyra’s elegant writing. A note she’d presumably knocked to the floor as she threw back the covers.

“I didn’t want to wake you, or to get up for that matter, but I have something to do. I managed to charm some breakfast out of the cooks, hopefully the bread will still be warm…”

Kassandra hoped so, too. Striding over to the table she was delighted to find her wish granted. Tearing off a fragrant chunk and cramming it into her mouth she carried on reading.

“...and so will the water.”

Water? What water? She cast her eyes over the table. There were the two jugs from last night, but that water would be long cold now. She pushed another wad of warm bread into her mouth and took a step back, chewing contentedly. There, by the chair was a bucket. A few sprigs of herbs floated on top of what turned out to be fairly hot water. She hefted it onto the table and sniffed appreciatively. Warm water was an unexpected treat. She turned back to the note.

“For the love of Aphrodite, please remember to wash before you come on deck, or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Chewing thoughtfully, she glanced down at herself, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her face. Perching on the edge of the table to finish her breakfast she cast her mind back to the previous night. Flexing a little, she felt the vague prickly tightness of the scratches Kyra had left on her shoulders. Her mouth was filled with nothing but warm olive bread now, but it didn’t take much to conjure up the dark, animal taste of Kyra's blood. It was easy to recall her muffled cries of release as she bit into one hand, the fingers of the other knotted tight in Kassandra’s hair, her nails dragging across her scalp. She’d rather hoped for a repeat performance before they had to knuckle down to the business of hauling the ship ashore, but clearly Kyra was dealing with other priorities. As she popped the last piece of bread in her mouth she heard her voice outside. Not a normal, conversational tone. She was clearly addressing a number of people.

Kassandra rolled her eyes as the earlier events of the evening came back to her. Finding washcloths and towels folded on the chair she began to clean herself. In all honesty, she thought, it was probably not the details of their sex life that they were never going to hear the end of. She took more care than usual, washing, dressing, braiding her hair and by the time she emerged from the cabin Kyra was assuming a “winding up” tone. Kassandra stepped up to the rail beside Barnabas and gave him a quizzical look. 

“Making her apologies,” he whispered, leaning over to her and nodding at the assembled crew below. “They’re a bit confused I think,” he hissed. “No one’s ever apologised to them before.”

“I’m not sure most of this lot deserve it now,” she scowled darkly, remembering that drachmae had changed hands during the brawl.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he patted her arm.

Their hushed whispers had not been quite hushed enough it appeared, because Kyra turned to look at them. She gave Kassandra a soft, apologetic smile and held out her hand towards her. For a moment Kassandra thought she was being invited to take it, an unusual gesture of intimacy under the circumstances, but there were a lot of unusual things happening lately. She stepped forward optimistically and had almost reached out for it when she realised just in time that she was simply being beckoned over.

“I’m glad your commander has appeared,” Kyra continued. “Because she deserves my apologies just as much as Odessa and Thyia. I was rash and mistrustful towards all of them, and whilst I don’t yet deserve their forgiveness, I hope that I will be able to earn it.”

Kassandra suspected that her vagueness, coupled with her grouping the three of them together like that would probably do more to stimulate speculation than quell it. But in fairness, there had no doubt been some fairly robust imaginings already, and as Barnabas said, it was the thought that counted.

“Excellent,” she declaimed, throwing back her shoulders. “Well that’s enough apologies for one day. Thank you Kyra...Archon...” she wasn’t sure which was more appropriate under the circumstances. “Back to work now,” she settled. “We’ve a ship to shift!”

The crew seemed thoroughly bemused as they filtered away to their posts.

“Does that mean it weren’t a proper fight then?” she heard one of the rowers grumbling. “Cos I aren’t giving the drachmae back, I won that fair and square.

“You know, love,” she gave a sigh. “You really didn’t need to apologise to that load of reprobates. They were betting on the outcome last night.”

“Indeed?” Kyra gave her a sidelong glance. “And who do they say won?”

“If you really think that I was paying attention to that when the woman I love and one of my lieutenants were splashing about over the side, then you don’t know me very well Kyra.”

“Deftly evaded, my love,” she smirked briefly, before assuming a more solemn demeanor. “I wasn’t really apologising to them, so much as apologising in their presence. I knocked Odessa over the side in front of them, I should apologise to her in front of them too.”

“I hate to break this to you, but I’m pretty sure Odessa is convinced that _she_ knocked you over the side actually,” Kassandra gave her an apologetic smile as she saw the woman in question approaching, her arm around Thyia’s shoulders.

“Apology accepted Archon,” she had twice as many black eyes as Kyra and her nose looked sore, but she was smirking nonetheless. “For the brawl anyway,” she added, more seriously.

Kyra couldn’t help but notice that Thyia seemed reluctant to meet her eyes.

“About last night, Thyia,” she reached out to touch her hand, stung when she received no response. 

“You’re sorry?” she glanced up. “I’m sure you are right now, stitched up and nursing a black eye. You look sorry,” she shrugged off Odessa’s arm and went to lean against the railing. “But I still don’t understand why you thought that, Kyra? Why you would have thought I’d do that? I thought we were becoming friends.”

Kyra swallowed uncomfortably, searching her mind for an appropriate response. This really wasn’t the right time or the place to be doing this, she thought.

Odessa folded her arms and stood, weight on one leg, smirking knowingly.

“I told you last night, and I’ll tell you again, treasure. For all that she governs those bloody islands, deep inside there’s a part of her that thinks she doesn’t deserve Kassandra and that it’s only a matter of time before Kassandra realises it too.”

“That’ll do Odessa!” Kassandra snapped, but Thyia had moved from the rails and made her way over to Kyra.

“Is that it?” she cocked her head quizzically, her expression sympathetic. “People don’t earn other people. We love who we love, despite their flaws. _ Because _ of them sometimes,” her eyes flitted towards Odessa for an instant. “It’s ridiculous to think that you wouldn’t be worthy of Kassandra somehow.”

“Is it?” there was a hint of a sneer in Odessa’s voice. “Because then she goes and does something like last night, and you begin to think she might be -”

“That’ll _ do _ Odessa!” Kassandra’s mouth was open but it was Thyia who cut her off this time, sounding weary for all the sharpness of her words. “I know that you’re sorry Kyra, and I appreciate you apologising in front of everyone like that, but it hurts yet. I’m sorry too.”

“Give it time, love,” Kassandra placed a reassuring arm around Kyra’s waist as they watched them leave to begin preparations.

As Thyia and Odessa departed, Gelon and Phoibe came strolling up. They’d found fresh looking apples from somewhere Kassandra noticed, her mouth watering.

“Where did you get those?”

“Well commander,” Gelon wiped a trickle of juice from her chin, and patted Phoibe on the head. “It helps if you’re the bosom companion of Ife’s favourite fucking crew member,” she mentioned the Egyptian second cook who had clearly taken a liking to Phoibe if the satisfying crunch of the apples was anything to go by.

“I’m your bosom companion,” Kassandra sounded a little wounded.

“You weren’t there, sorry,” Phoibe examined what was left of her apple. It wasn’t much. “Want the rest?”

Kassandra considered for a moment. It was mainly core.

“No, you’re okay. Thanks all the same.”

“It’s not what you know, it’s who you fucking know,” Gelon grinned and tapped her nose, tossing the meagre scrap of her own core over the side. “By the way Kyra, nice apology. That took some fucking balls, excuse me, sorry, some fucking backbone,” she corrected. “Even if it was wasted on half those buggers. How’s your eye?”

“It looks sore,” Phoibe observed sympathetically.

“It’s fine, thank you,” Kyra sighed. “Not my first black eye.” 

“Or your first stitches eh?” Kassandra smiled fondly, giving her a squeeze. “It’ll look very dashing,” she winked.

Phoibe nibbled the last remnants of flesh from her apple and tossed the scant remains after Gelon’s, eyeing Kassandra and Kyra curiously as she did so. Last night when they’d returned to their cabin, she’d mentioned to Gelon that she didn’t suppose Kassandra would be altogether thrilled by her girlfriend brawling with a crew member. Gelon had chuckled and winked, before telling Phoibe that she might well be surprised. Her attempts to pry out further explanation had been unsuccessful. Gelon had, infuriatingly, told her that she’d understand when she was older. Phoibe had informed her that she hated when people said that and Gelon had noddingly agreed that she would hate it too.

She seemed to have been right though. For whatever reason Kassandra had a comforting arm around Kyra and was smiling at her with every evidence of devotion. 

Though now she was looking at Phoibe she realised. Looking at her and waving her hand.

“Sorry. Were you talking?” she dragged herself back to the present.

“I was, and about exactly this,” Kassandra strode over and to Phoibe’s surprise dropped to one knee in front of her. “I need you to listen really well, little one, all right?” She waited for her nod. “I understand that the diolkos is going to seem fascinating. I was fascinated myself the first time I saw it. But you need to be aware that it can be dangerous.”

“Very fucking dangerous,” Gelon said darkly, folding her arms.

“There are a lot of things that can go wrong if you aren’t really careful.” Phoibe recognised Kassandra’s “serious important” voice and gave her full attention. “People drop things, ropes snap, people fall off things, fall under things -”

“Get smooshed in half by big fucking wheels,” Gelon elaborated.

“They _ what _?” Phoibe looked up.

“The whole weight of the vessel is on those wheels,” Kassandra shot Gelon a look. “You need to stay well away from the trolley that pulls the ship, in fact any time the ship is moving you need to be well away from it,” she was frowning thoughtfully. “All the time we’re on the diolkos you need to be near me, or Gelon, or Barnabas, understand?”

“Mmm” Phoibe nodded, glancing up at Gelon, nervously. “When you say smooshed?”

“I mean fucking smooshed,” Gelon made an expressive hand gesture. “We were on the down-slope, he’d been shoveling sand, took his eye off the fucking ball and went tit over arse right under the wheel. Meat paste. A fucking dog would have turned its nose up at what was left. Worst fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Right...thank you Gelon,” Kassandra stopped her before she could elaborate further. “So you understand how important it is that we know where you are all the time?”

“Mmm,” Phoibe nodded. The diolkos was looking less exciting suddenly. “All the time.”

“Aye, you’ll be on my rope, little one,” Gelon nodded. “In front of me, all the fucking time right? If you so much as go off to piss behind the bushes I want you within arm’s reach, right?”

“Yes,” Phoibe nodded emphatically. “The smooshing?” she ventured hesitantly. “Was it quick?”

“Instantaneous!” Kassandra interrupted smoothly, locking eyes with Gelon.

“Ey?” she frowned and then caught Phoibe’s uncharacteristically pale face. “Oh aye, poor bastard didn’t have any idea. One minute, complaining about his fucking back aching, fraction of a second later, never complaining again. When I go -”

“So, make sure we always know where you are,” Kassandra cut her off again.

  
  


The scare story had certainly done the trick Kassandra had to concede as she watched the Adrestia being inched, creaking and dripping onto the wheeled carriage. Phoibe was way over by the foreman’s hut, watching fascinated.

The foreman at this end, a much older, more obliging, slightly deaf man had tutted sympathetically over Kyra’s black eye and stitches. She spun him a heartrending story of being jumped at their previous stop to resupply and he shook his head wearily, bemoaning the state of the world. Her subsequent request for ink and papyrus brought forth a huge pile of neatly trimmed sheets and a small stoppered bottle.

“No, no, my dear,” he patted Kyra’s hands when she attempted to pay. “You take that. Hopefully it will help to persuade you that not everyone in the world is a vulgar scoundrel. Next time,” he cast a rheumy eye over Kassandra, looming impressively by the door, “take this one with you for protection. You should be ashamed!” he wagged a knotty finger in her direction. “Leaving a lovely young thing like this to wander unprotected in foreign parts, indeed!”

“Thanks for that,” Kassandra gave her a wry smile as they went to show Phoibe their bounty. “I feel like an asshole now.”

“So you should,” Kyra smirked. “Leaving me at the mercy of bandits like that. I was lucky to escape with my honour intact.”

“You told him your honour was intact, did you?” Kassandra teased. “Shameless.”

“What’s intact?” Phoibe looked over, trying to keep one eye on the creaking hull. 

“This bottle of ink that Kyra wheedled out of that poor gullible old man, just for you,” Kassandra waved it.

To her pleasure, Phoibe was suitably impressed and thanked Kyra enthusiastically, before hopping back onto her perch on the table outside the foreman’s office.

“He said I can wait here until Gelon comes to get me,” she explained. 

“All right then,” Kassandra ruffled her hair. “Want me to put that stuff somewhere safe?” She took the supplies and cast a fond eye over Phoibe. “You know, if you get tired, or bored, you can come and ride on my shoulders,” she reminded her.

“You’re going to be pulling a rope,” she pointed out reasonably. 

“I can pull a ship _ and _ carry my favourite girl,” Kassandra teased, flexing playfully. She was beginning to feel concerned that they’d maybe put a little _ too _ much wind up Phoibe.

“I won’t need fucking carrying, I’m fine,” Gelon’s throaty chuckle interrupted them. “Right youngster, you ready?” she gave Phoibe a wink. “And you,” she nodded at Kyra. “You’re back on my rope again, I got my fucking claim in first.”

“Oh no, she doesn’t need to-” Kassandra began, only to be cut off in mid flow by Kyra.

“She absolutely does need to,” she frowned.

“But I just thought that you should take it easier today what with -”

“My back is fine thank you Kassandra, nothing a little exercise won’t sort out,” Kyra gave her a meaningful look.

“Your back?” Gelon narrowed her eyes. “Ey look, the commander has a fucking point, if you’re not the full drachma.”

“I just caught a knock going over the side last night,” Kyra lied smoothly. “Much better already. I might not be quite as productive as I was on the way out mind you,” she spotted a jug of water on the table beside Phoibe, with a couple of relatively clean cups nearby and pulled the packet of herbs from her pocket. “Theis has given me something though,” she swallowed the dusty powder and chased it with a mouthful of depressingly warm water.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Gelon arched an eyebrow. “I mean, don’t worry about slacking a bit if you have to, you pulled like a fucker and half on the way here. Come on, little one,” she held out a hand to Phoibe as she hopped down off the table. “We’ll not get far without _ you _.”

Gelon positioned Phoibe right at the front of her rope. It not only allowed her to keep a careful eye on her throughout, but gave Phoibe the impression that she actually was contributing to hauling the ship. Any other place on the line and she wouldn’t have been able to even reach the thick rope that the others had shouldered, let alone pull on it. Quite how much forward momentum she managed to provide was open to debate, but by the time the sun sank, Phoibe had certainly worked hard enough to be aching and exhausted. Nevertheless, once they stopped for the night, she insisted on trotting off to collect firewood for the cooks.

She’d made such a valiant effort to pull her weight, that by the time the savory smell of stew wafted through the air, she found herself being gently ushered to the front of the queue.

“Never question being pushed to the front, Phoibe,” the cook winked, ladling out a bowlful of steaming fish and vegetables, as sweat trickled into his bushy beard.

“Unless someone has asked for volunteers,” Ife smiled, looking for the crustiest chunk of bread for her. 

“Sound point,” he wagged his ladle recklessly, sending an arc of hot broth over Phoibe’s shoulder and onto the rower behind her. “Never volunteer.”

Nursing the steaming bowl in both tingling hands, Phoibe opened her mouth wide to allow Ife to pop the warm, crusty bread between her teeth, lifted her elbow to accept a small skin of water, grunted her thanks and padded gingerly away from the queue, watching the swaying stew carefully. She hadn’t really thought much further than getting to somewhere quiet where she could tend to her blisters and devour her supper.

Kassandra was always easy to pick out in a crowd, even a crowd of big people like this. There was a glow about her that drew Phoibe’s eye wherever they were. Right now though she was lounging on her bedroll, reclining on one elbow, trailing a finger up and down the length of Kyra’s arm. Phoibe had seen that sort of thing often enough to recognise when three would be a crowd. She should let them have these last few days together, she told herself, soon they would be on Mykonos. Kyra would be back to her job. Kassandra and Phoibe would be settling into their new home.

Odessa and Thyia were in the queue she noticed, but judging by the way Odessa had her arms wrapped around Thyia’s hips from the back as she murmured in her ear, it might be best for Phoibe to leave them to their own devices as well. 

Gelon then, she decided, looking around for her. She failed to find her for quite a while. It wasn’t until a minor spat over a fish head at the front of the queue attracted her attention that she spotted her. She was leaning on the table beside Ife, smiling engagingly and handing the young cook cups and bowls as requested.

Ohh! Well that was a good choice, she smiled to herself. Ife was lovely, and her Greek was a bit broken at times so she might not even notice Gelon’s colourful vocabulary. Or she might pick it up, she supposed. But they both worked on a ship, it would be fine. And she was ever so pretty, she thought, watching Ife giggle coyly and lower her eyes as Gelon leaned in to ask her something. Right, fair enough, she definitely didn’t want to scupper Gelon’s chances there.

Barnabas’ cheery voice hollering her name made her turn so quickly that she spilled a little hot soup over her thumb and cursed under her breath.

“Come and sit with me, my little scallop,” he patted the ground beside him. “I’ve got you a bedroll. The stew is delicious. Are you tired?” he asked, concerned, as she slowly and gingerly made her way over, trying not to spill any more of her precious cargo.

“A bit,” she conceded as he took the bread from her mouth. One end was soggy now. “My hands are stinging a bit,” she frowned, putting down her bowl and sitting cross legged beside him.

“No wonder,” he took them in his own big weather worn palms and tutted sympathetically. “You’ve worked hard today, like a real crew member. We’ll get you something for those. Kassandra has the best stuff. Her and Theis...where is she?” he craned his neck peering around.

“Let’s eat our stew before it gets cold,” Phoibe suggested, retrieving the spoon that Ife had tucked into her pocket. 

“You’re sure?” he was halfway to getting up, but she patted his knee reassuringly. “Because it won’t take me a … oh there she is, queuing for supper.”

“Don’t go interrupting her then,” she mumbled around a mouthful of bread and fish. “Kassandra says you make an offering to Poseidon before we get back in the sea?” She inched his bowl towards him a little.

“Indeed I do, little one,” he seemed to have decided to follow her advice, dipping a chunk of bread into his bowl. “With his blessing we will soon be approaching the shores of my birthplace...and Artemis’ of course, I mean it’s more important that it’s hers obviously, but..”

“May I come with you?” she looked over the rim of her bowl before sipping loudly.

“Would you like to, really?” he looked a little misty at the suggestion.

“Please, if it’s all right,” she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “I’ve never seen a shrine to Poseidon.”

“The lord of the seas will be delighted to see you,” he patted her cheek. “More delighted than he is by Kassandra’s offerings,” he muttered more to himself than her.

“She can be very disrespectful sometimes,” Phoibe nodded sympathetically, taking a swig of water.

“I’ll say,” he sighed. “Heart of gold mind you. So long as you’re on her right side of course.”

“Whose right side?”

Phoibe spilled water on herself as Gelon flopped down unexpectedly beside her. “Kassandra,” she coughed a little and wiped her mouth.

“Oh gods aye,” Gelon nodded. “You do _ not _want to be on that big bugger’s bad side. I’ve never been unfortunate enough, but…” she whistled through her teeth and poured a cup of wine from the skin she’d brought with her.

“I thought you were with Ife?” Phoibe tried to peer over her shoulder to see where the young cook was now.

“I was,” Gelon took a sip of wine. “And now I’m here with you. I thought I’d come and keep you company,” she grinned.

“Oh! Right,” Phoibe nodded. “It’s all right though really, you don’t need to. Barnabas is keeping me company.”

“Ow, fucking Hades, my heart,” Gelon grabbed her chest.

“Gelon, please,” Barnabas hissed as Phoibe looked a trifle concerned.

“Like a dagger in the fucking chest Phoibe,” she shook her head. “You certainly know how to hurt a woman.”

“Oh no! No. I didn’t mean like that,” Phoibe reached out and touched her knee apologetically. “I just meant, you could sit and have your supper with Ife if you like. You must be bored with me by now.”

“Bored with you?” Gelon eyed her with amused suspicion. “Abso-fucking-lutely not,” she ignored Barnabas’ scandalized muttering. “We’re mates now, aren’t we?”

“Yes, of course,” Phoibe nodded. “But...you just seemed to be having a nice time with Ife, is all. She’s having her supper over there, you could go and chat with her if you like,” she smiled hopefully.

“Phoibe of Kephallonia!” Gelon reared back playfully. “Are you trying to set me up with our lovely young Egyptian cook with the voice like fucking honey?”

“See? I _ knew _ you were flirting with her,” Phoibe grinned delightedly. “Go and sit with her,” she nudged her knee hopefully.

Gelon chuckled and refilled her cup before speaking again. “I was trying to flirt my way into her fucking spice box is all.”

“Gelon!” Barnabas gasped. “There are children here, a child here, Phoibe is here!”

“Her _ literal _ spice box, you dirty bugger,” she laughed. “I wanted to find out what she puts in those little dumpling things that she makes. Cos that dozy bastard of a cook has no idea. It’s like eating fucking glue when when he makes them.”

“He’s not very adventurous, no,” Barnabas conceded.

“We-ell,” Phoibe waggled her eyebrows. “If you were her girlfriend she’d be bound to let you into her spice box.”

“Phoibe!” Barnabas exclaimed. “Gods’ sakes, Kassandra will throw a fit if she hears -”

“Her literal spice box, _ again, _ you fucking idiot,” Gelon sighed.

“Captain,” Phoibe reminded her.

“You fucking idiot, captain,” Gelon laughed, shaking her head and filling his cup for him. “I can get so far, there’s definitely pepper, and fennel, and then she cracks on that she doesn’t understand me.”

“She wants you to try a bit harder,” Phoibe explained around a mouthful of bread.

“Oooh!” Gelon raised her eyebrows. “Listen to you! Someone’s been paying attention when the commander’s been scouting for tail.”

Barnabas shook his head wearily and held out his cup for a refill.

“Stands to reason,” Phoibe fished a bone out from between her teeth and examined it for a moment before flicking it into the bushes. “You could take your wine over there now, she’s finished working for the night, you could-”

“She has _ not _ finished working for the night!” Barnabas chimed in. “They’ve all these plates and bowls to tidy away before the night’s out. We’re eating out of these in the morning.”

“Well clean it out with your bread,” Phoibe suggested reasonably. “Then they only have to clean the cooking pots.”

“The idea,” he muttered under his breath.

“Anyway,” Gelon stretched her shoulders expansively and reached for Barnabas’ cup again. “Thank you for your concern, youngster, but sadly, I am not Ife’s type.”

“Aw,” Phoibe grimaced sympathetically. “Is it the language?” she suggested cautiously. “Because Kassandra and I were saying that perhaps -”

“Fuck me!” Gelon exclaimed, but her expression remained affable enough. The wine skin had been a third empty by the time she’d come to sit down, she was beyond offense. “Now I’ve got you _ and _ the big lass trying to sort out my love life!” she shook her head, laughing to herself. No, it’s not my fucking language, though I take your point Phoibe,” she nodded.

“Then…” Phoibe frowned thoughtfully and cast an appraising eye over Gelon. “She doesn’t like blondes?” she suggested.

“How very fucking shallow you think she is,” Gelon chuckled delightedly. “No, youngster, it’s a bit more fundamental than that. The lovely Ife...and she_ is _ lovely,” she shot a quick glance back to her. “I won’t argue with you about that.”

“Nice legs,” Phoibe nodded, missing Barnabas’ horrified eyeroll.

“Very,” Gelon nodded. “Well observed. Nevertheless, the lovely Ife,” she stifled a hiccup, “likes snails, not oysters.”

“Are you _ sure _ about that?” Phoibe narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I think that might be a mistranslation thing, because I am absolutely sure I saw her haggling for oysters when we-”

“No, no, no,” Gelon waved a hand. “It was a fucking whatsit, metaphor or something. Ife likes men, not women. I mean she likes women well enough but she doesn’t fucking _ like _ women.”

They both heard Barnabas’ scandalized gasp.

“I did _ not _ say what you just thought I said, captain,” Gelon held up a finger.

“Oh!” Phoibe’s face fell. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Gelon laughed delightedly and patted her on the back. “Oh Phoibe, Phoibe,” she wiped her eyes. “I’m not sure Mykonos is ready for you. No. See that man over there,” she pointed out a brawny rower with curly hair and a glossy, close clipped beard. “She likes _ that _ man especially,” she took a swig of wine and observed wistfully. “He’ll have his fingers in her spice box before the evening’s out.”

“The commander is going to have a fit,” Barnabas sat upright, splashing wine on his tunic. “An actual fit, if she hears us talking like this with her young... with young Phoibe here.”

“You have a very suspicious mind captain,” Gelon arched an eyebrow. “And our beloved commander is in no position to talk, having wandered off into the fucking bushes with her lady love a few minutes ago.”

“I beg your pardon, I think you’re mistaken there,” he peered over to where Kassandra and Kyra had been sitting eating the last time he’d looked. “Wait, where in Hades have they gone?”

“I’ve just fucking told you,” Gelon laughed. “Human nature being what it is and all that bollocks. Have a biscuit Phoibe?” She produced a small bag from behind her back. “I did at least manage to wheedle these out of Ife. Helped that I said I would share them with you, you charming little bugger,” she laughed.

Barnabas was chuntering disapprovingly to himself. “I swear to Poseidon, it’s every time we are on this damn road,” he shook his head. “Behaving like animals.”

“It’s the change of scenery,” Gelon smiled. “Have a fucking biscuit, take your mind off it.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Kassandra swooped in unexpectedly, grabbing a couple of biscuits and laughing as they all jumped.

“Fuck me, Kassandra!” Gelon gathered up the rest of the dropped biscuits. “How are you so light on your fucking feet for someone built like a bloody shed?”

“Professional secret,” she mumbled, scattering a mouthful of crumbs over Phoibe’s shoulders.

“We thought you were in the bushes,” she grumbled, brushing them off. “Selene would go mad,” she shook her head. “About the crumbs, not the bushes.”

“What in Hades are you on about?” she folded herself down cross legged beside Phoibe and dusted her off a bit.

“Don’t think we didn’t notice,” Gelon smirked. “Absenting yourself with your other half. You were pretty bloody swift about it, mind you, pardon the observation.”

“What? Ah no, well yes,” she was fumbling about in her belt. “But not for that.”

“Not spices then?” Phoibe grinned at Gelon.

“Phoibe!” Barnabas gasped.

“I’m not sure what you three have been up to,” Kassandra swept a wary eye from one to the other. “And I’m not sure that I want to. Kyra needed to...she was just…” she wafted a vague hand in the direction of the bushes. “And I was just keeping a lookout.”

“Good gods,” Phoibe sighed. “What does she usually do when she’s out hunting? Are you telling me she can hold it for an entire day? Because that’s quite impressive actually.”

“I really don’t think she would appreciate us all sitting around discussing her bladder like this,” Kassandra observed primly, holding up a small stoppered vial.

“I quite agree,” Barnabas nodded. “None of this is at all what I expected when I sat down to eat my supper.”

“I know,” Gelon watched as Kassandra searched vainly for a clean hankie before handing over her own. “It’s like living among fucking sailors sometimes isn’t it, captain?”

“I came over to see how your hands were, little one,” Kassandra tilted her head. “I was watching you, you worked really hard today.”

“I know,” Gelon nodded. “Get a bit of fucking weight on her and she’ll be challenging you.”

Phoibe blushed proudly and looked at her hands. “They’re a bit sore, but they’ll be fine,” she put on a brave face. 

“I have something that helps,” Kassandra uncapped the bottle and held it over for her to sniff, watching as she grimaced at the astringent scent. “It hurts before it helps though.”

“Hmm?” She took the bottle and examined it, tilting it to drip a little on her finger. “Well, Gelon said that’s what life’s like sometimes,” she recalled thoughtfully.

Kassandra glanced over at Gelon and gave her a wistful smile.

“Aye,” she blushed lightly. “I’m quite the fucking philosopher on the quiet. It’s not all earthy observations about ropes with me you know.” She turned her attention to Phoibe. She was cautiously dabbing her wet finger at the raw skin and wincing. “It does bloody hurt though youngster, not going to lie about that. Smells like a cyclops' armpit too.”

“Does it work?” she glanced up.

“Like a fucking charm, makes your eyes water like a son of a bitch while it’s doing it mind you. Doesn’t count as crying though,” she winked.

“All right,” Phoibe firmed her chin and held out her hands to Kassandra.

“You’re sure?” she tilted her head, waiting for Phoibe’s nod. “Okay. Want to come sit on my knee?”

“You didn’t ask _ me _ to sit on your knee when you did mine that time,” Gelon laughed.

“I didn’t think you’d want people talking,” Kassandra grinned affably, hauling Phoibe onto her lap and holding her close. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

She was grimacing through her tears by the time Kassandra got to work on her other hand, but was clearly determined to endure what she’d interpreted as a sailor’s rite of passage.

“Well done,” Kassandra smiled, cradling her head and drawing it forward to press a kiss to her brow. “Good girl. I was so proud of you today.”

“We all were,” Barnabas beamed fondly. “You have the makings of a fine sailor. You haven’t been seasick at all, not like Kyra, or Kassandra for that matter.”

“They feel a bit better already,” Phoibe said thoughtfully, wafting them back and forth to help them dry. 

“There you go Gelon, thank you,” Kassandra returned the handkerchief. “For Zeus’ sake don’t wipe your eyes with it.”

“Aye, tell you what, you keep that,” she nodded. “And I’ll keep my sodding eyesight eh?”

“Tired?” Kassandra brushed Phoibe’s hair back from her sweat grimed forehead. Her bun had given up the ghost some hours back, and her eyes were drooping closed suddenly.

“A bit,” she made to rub them but all three adults jumped to stop her.

“Yeah, you don’t want to do that,” Kassandra caught Phoibe’s hands in one of hers. “It’s a harsh lesson,” she grimaced at her own memory. Keeping hold of her hands, she hugged her close and they sat quietly for a moment, Gelon handing her the wine cup to share. After a few minutes the tenor of Phoibe’s breathing changed, and Kassandra felt her head droop heavily against her shoulder.

“The kid worked hard today,” Gelon smiled fondly. “Kept looking round to see where you were. To see if you were watching.”

“I was,” Kassandra stroked Phoibe’s hair gently, followed the pass of her hands with a kiss. “Gelon?” she began hesitantly.

“You’re going to steal my fucking bunk-mate I suppose?” she smiled. “Despite having a perfectly good one of your own, you greedy bugger.”

“Do you mind?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

“I do a bit, funnily enough,” Gelon frowned, looking as though she’d surprised herself. “But I’d better get used to it eh?” She watched as Kassandra rose to her feet, impressively elegant considering the sleeping child in her arms. “Go on,” she nodded, taking a mouthful of wine to disguise the hitch in her voice. “Take her with you. I’ll go and see if I can scrounge that fucking cat from Thyia,” she managed a smile.

  
  



	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we reach land and Phoibe falls in love for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A picture!! Obviously you have fishbone76 to thank for that. I like to imagine Little Green Bag playing as I look at it.

From the moment that Thyia’s voice rang out announcing that the Silver Islands were visible on the horizon Kassandra sensed a change in energy from both Kyra and Phoibe. The former’s broody anxiety melted and she began pacing the rail like a big cat, spending an hour at a time in the bow, gazing transfixed as her homeland gradually grew larger.

Phoibe, however, had become subdued. Her curious inquiries to Barnabas had slowed to a trickle and eventually dried up entirely. Spotting her perched on the rail of the helm staring out to sea, brows creased, Kassandra crept up behind her and with a whispered “boo” slipped her arms around Phoibe’s waist, laughing at her startled jump.

“They’re pretty islands no, little one?” she bent so she could rest her cheek against hers. “Barnabas didn’t exaggerate for once huh?”

“No,” she heard the thick swallow Phoibe gave before speaking. “They’re really pretty.”

“Then what’s this for?” Kassandra leaned back and tapped lightly at the deep furrow between her eyebrows. “You’ll get wrinkles before breasts at this rate. What’s troubling you?” It occurred to her that Phoibe had become very attached to Gelon on the journey and was perhaps already pining for her. “You know, the Adrestia is in dock here more often than not. You can come aboard and visit with Gelon anytime you like I’m sure. Maybe not sharing her bunk all the time mind you, or we’ll never get her a girlfriend,” she winked.

“No. I know, it’s not that. Well it’s a bit that, but it’s more…'' She and Gelon had made an emotional goodbye that morning while packing Phoibe’s belongings and Gelon had said more or less the same thing, minus the caveat about girlfriends. She hugged the muscular arm encircling her and sighed. “There are so many ships Kassandra. Such big ones. I thought the Adrestia was big, but some of these,” her eyes rested on a massive merchant vessel crossing their path.

“We’re on a busy trade route. The dock at Mykonos is really busy, there’s always something arriving or departing.”

“Is everything so big?” she sounded subdued.

“Well Mykonos is smaller than Kephallonia but there’s a lot more going on. More buildings, more people, more ships in and out. Big statue of Artemis instead of Zeus. Much nicer legs.” There was no immediate response from Phoibe, but Kassandra felt her gripping her arm more tightly and leaning back against her. “It will seem strange and different at first,” she rested her chin on Phoibe’s shoulder and spoke quietly. “But you’ll get used to things. And everyone will soon know who you are.”

Phoibe wasn’t so sure. As the islands grew closer she could make out more details. Everything seemed brighter and cleaner somehow, as though the whole scene was freshly painted. The sea glittered like sapphires, and as they passed the beach, the bright white sand threw back the glare of the sun like a mirror, making her squint and shield her eyes. 

Strange trees with elegant arched trunks and fronds of leaves like the feathers of some exotic bird clustered here and there. If this was the plant life, she considered, what must the wildlife be like here? Did they even have goats in such a beautiful place? Their shaggy pelts and awkward angular legs would be totally out of place. Sleek, glossy coated beasts with languid gaits and musical cries must populate the hills here, surely? She felt a strange sickly mix of emotions. Excitement was there, but taking a back seat to anxiety now that they were close enough to make out the vague shapes of individuals on the dockside.

The tenor of activity on board had altered as they drew near. Gelon and Odessa could be heard barking out orders to the rowers, the rhythm of the oars had changed as they slowed the ship and began the careful procedure of approaching the shore.

“I want to go and have a word with Kyra before we dock,” Kassandra relaxed her grip on Phoibe, only to have to grasp at her arm.

“Can I come?” She looked up, wide-eyed. “Please? Don’t leave me?”

Kassandra paused for a moment to glance down at her and recognised the nervous look in her eyes, in the way she was nibbling on her lower lip. “Sure,” she smiled, gripping her by the waist and swinging her down. As they made their way down the steps to the deck she felt Phoibe’s hand slip into hers and catch hold of three of her fingers, as many as she could manage she realised, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ve not worn a groove in the deck yet?” she grinned, strolling up and interrupting Kyra mid-pace. “I can make out Praxos there,” she nodded in the direction of the dock.

“Yes,” Kyra folded her arms, biting at the corner of her lip. “I’m going to ask him to accompany the wine back to Delos. Tomorrow or the day after will be soon enough, Korax probably hasn’t realised it’s missing yet, and she and Praxos go back a long way.”

She noticed Phoibe clinging to Kassandra’s hand and leaning into her hip. She looked very young suddenly and Kyra was struck by the fact that she really was just a little girl, for all her outward bravado and the occasional inappropriately worldly observation. “What do you think?” she asked kindly. “Does Mykonos look like you imagined?”

“I’m not sure what I imagined really,” Phoibe shook her head, as the ship turned to ease alongside the dock. “Barnabas said it was beautiful, but he does exaggerate a bit at times. It really is though,” she gripped Kassandra’s fingers more tightly.

Everything about the place looked big. Kassandra had told her it was smaller than Kephallonia, but it was hard to accept. Everywhere she looked there were buildings. Bigger, taller than anything she had seen in Sami. Clustered together, sprawling up the slopes. And the people! Even they looked bigger and cleaner. She could see stalls set out with all manner of wares, hear raucous voices calling for trade. Even the dock workers milling about loading and unloading vessels were cleaner and better dressed than their Kephallonian counterparts. Everywhere there were people. Men, women, more children than she’d seen in one place before. Many seemed to be going about their business, haggling for bargains, but a number were standing watching the vessel approach. 

“So many people,” she murmured to herself, but Kassandra had caught it.

“I know,” she grinned down at her. “They’ll have got word we were coming. Everyone will have missed Kyra. She’s never been away for so long.”

Missed Kyra? Phoibe’s face wrinkled in confusion. She’d assumed the people gathered at the dockside were here to greet Kassandra, but no, now she came to look more closely they were all looking towards Kyra. They were waving at her. She was the one raising her hand in salute.

She’d been wrong, clearly, Phoibe thought. Kyra must be a hetaera, but one of those really posh, expensive ones. The ones who could pick and choose the men they went with, or even if they went with men at all. The ones who would be paid just for their conversation. Like? She frowned, trying to recall her family chatting back on Kephallonia. Those two famous hetaerae, both their names began with A. But it was like digging through mud for a drachma. There were so many new stimuli flooding her senses.

One man on the dock towered over everyone else, the sun burnished his bald head, glinted on his hammered breastplate. Phoibe had never seen anyone so big. She’d thought that half-witted bandit the Cyclops was a giant, but...she watched as a broad grin split the man’s previously sombre face and he waved an arm like a tree trunk, calling Kyra’s name.

“That’s Praxos,” Kassandra bent and whispered. Seeing Phoibe’s confused expression she frowned thoughtfully. “Er...Praxos is to Kyra as I am to you?” 

“Oh!” Phoibe turned and looked at Kyra. She was leaning on the railing, waving enthusiastically and her excited grin had taken a good five years off her.

“You’ll like him,” Kassandra continued. “He looks a bit grumpy at first glance, but he’s a softy inside. Well with children at least.”

Phoibe pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Does she still live with him?” She watched as Gelon tossed a heavy line ashore and he caught it effortlessly in one huge paw.

“Well, I suppose technically _ he _ lives with her,” Kassandra frowned as they inched towards the dock. “Lives with us, I should say,” she added cryptically. “Oops, let’s get out of the way of the gangplank,” she eased Phoibe back before she could give voice to the question that was forming in her mind.

“Here we are,” Barnabas appeared behind them. “Beautiful Mykonos!” he placed a gentle hand on Phoibe’s head. “Now you go up to the villa and don’t worry about anything. You’ve got all your stuff packed, no? We’ll bring it all up for you as soon as we’re properly tied up. You go and see your new home.”

“Thank you Barnabas,” Phoibe released Kassandra’s hand for long enough to give him a hug. “Thank you for a lovely trip. And your island looks beautiful.”

He chuckled fondly and patted her cheek. “Well it’s more Kyra’s island if it’s anyone’s other than Artemis’,” he said mysteriously. “It will be a pleasure to have you aboard the Adrestia any time. And once you’re settled in we’ll have a day out together eh? I’ll show you all the best places for fishing.”

Phoibe nodded, forgetting her nerves for a moment at the prospect. But as she sensed Kassandra making a move for the gangplank she grabbed hold of her hand again and held on tightly.

“Don’t worry Phoibe,” she laughed kindly. “I’m not going to let you get lost. Not after travelling all that way to get you,” she winked, as Kyra positively bounded down the gangplank and straight into the arms of the mountainous Praxos. Phoibe watched as he swept her up as though she weighed nothing and hugged her to his metal-clad chest, burying his face in her hair. Yes, she thought. As Kassandra is to me, Praxos is to Kyra.

She noticed that now they were safely docked, the rest of the observers had withdrawn to a respectful distance and were filtering away, presumably to carry on doing whatever they’d been up to before the ship’s arrival.

“Praise Artemis you’re home,” Praxos murmured, kissing Kyra’s cheeks. “And in one piece. You_ are _ in one piece?” he placed her carefully on her feet and cast an eye over her, frowning at the new scar on her forehead and the fading bruise around her eye.

“_ I’m _ in more or less the same condition that I left in,” she laughed. “Are the Islands?”

“More or less,” he shrugged, evasively. “Well then,” he caught sight of Kassandra striding down the gangway with Phoibe in tow. “As you’ve returned Kyra to me reasonably unharmed, I suppose we can still be friends,” he threw out his arms.

“In all fairness Praxos,” Kassandra laughed. “Kyra is more than capable of looking after herself.”

The last couple of words were muffled as he hauled Kassandra off her feet and into a bear hug. It took considerably more effort than lifting Kyra, but he still didn’t seem to be exerting himself unduly, Phoibe observed, impressed.

“And!” he dropped Kassandra a good deal less ceremoniously than he had Kyra, and turned his attention to the nervous little girl hovering at the foot of the gangplank. “You must be Phoibe of Kephallonia?”

In two strides he was in front of her, dropping to one knee and smiling kindly. It reminded her very much of Kassandra when she had something important to impart. But she imagined Praxos may have done it just to be able to get a better look at her.

“My name is Praxos,” he held out an enormous hand and gripped her forearm carefully. “It’s a great pleasure to make your acquaintance at last. Kassandra has told me many tales of your exploits, of what a good hunter you are.”

“Thank you,” she examined his face carefully. “I’m not as good as her.”

“Who is?” he gave a great rumbling laugh. “Well, my Kyra perhaps, but we’ll let them sort that out between themselves, eh Phoibe? I hope you and I can go hunting together soon? I’ll show you all the best places. What do you say?”

“I’d like that very much,” she nodded. Kassandra was right. Phoibe did feel as though she’d like him. He seemed nice. Or more accurately, he looked big and strong and scary from a distance but there was a kindness in his eyes. Just like Kassandra. Both looked like they could knock a man through a wall if they decided that circumstances warranted it, but Phoibe felt she would be completely safe with Praxos.

“Excellent,” he beamed. “As soon as you’re settled in then. I go hunting for rabbits most mornings. The little blighters run rampant on the island and there’s always an appetite for them at the orphanage. Kassandra tells me you’re a dead shot at a rabbit,” he got to his feet with a grunt.

Phoibe inched back alongside Kassandra as they set off through bustling streets, quietly taking hold of her fingers again after a few minutes. There was so much to see, hear and smell, it would be all too easy to become separated. The streets were flanked on either side by buildings that seemed to Phoibe to glow like moonshine, towering so high she had to crane her neck to see the roofs. The grit of the path crunched under her feet, with little of the discarded chicken bones and piles of goat shit she was used to skipping around back home.

She should stop thinking of it as that, she supposed. _ This _ was going to be their home now, with its polished stone, and air fragrant with the scent of unknown blooms. This was how Phoibe imagined Elysium must be. No wonder Kassandra had decided to settle down here. Even without the attraction of Kyra’s presence the place was a bustling, noisy, sweet smelling paradise.

As they strolled on everyone moved out of their way, withdrawing to the sides of the street and nodding respectfully at Kyra. Was she some sort of _head_ of the hetaerae perhaps? Like that woman in Korinth that she’d heard Selene talking about? But Kassandra had flat out said she wasn’t a hetaera. Perhaps things were organised differently in a big, busy place like this?

“Has everything run smoothly in my absence?” Kyra asked as she nodded acknowledgment of yet another polite greeting.

“Pretty much,” Praxos shrugged.

“You’re being evasive,” Kyra cocked an eyebrow. “And you’re not very good at it. What’s happened? Did something go wrong with that grain delivery?”

“No!” he sounded relieved. “Absolutely not. That went smooth as honey. That Alector fellow came with it to help see to the storage.”

“Did he now?” Kyra's voice sounded tight.

“Aye, I’ve never liked him. Mean spirited, shifty bast...fellow,” he glanced quickly at Phoibe. “ And he upsets Savina.” 

They were headed up a sloping street now, the crowds were thinning and the buildings were fewer. In the distance Phoibe could see a huge villa, with armoured guards at the gate. They couldn’t be headed there, she decided, peering past it. So where exactly were they going? She was glad that she hadn’t had to carry her belongings. It looked like they were in for a hike, and it was taking more out of her than she’d anticipated. Her legs felt wobbly after so much time aboard ship.

“In fairness though,” Praxos continued. “I couldn’t really fault him about anything this time. He was creepily accommodating. He stayed over till the grain was all safely stored and accounted for.”

“Stayed over?” Kyra turned sharply. “In the villa?”

“Gods no, Kyra,” he laughed. “He was angling after it. He’d love to get his feet under the Archon’s table. But none of us were having that. With you away, he’d have had more or less free run of the place of a night, unless I slept in your office. No, we billeted him at Mikis’. In one of the best rooms. I think Nike kept him entertained.”

Kyra stopped in mid stride and stared at him.

“What?” he frowned, puzzled for a moment. “Oh! Gods no. Not like that. At least I don’t think so. I mean I didn’t ask! Her business is her business, but...I can’t see it,” he shuddered.

“I see,” she pursed her lips thoughtfully and then walked on. “Was the grain properly checked whilst he was being the life and soul of the party?”

  
  


“I knew you’d ask that,” Praxos rolled his eyes. “The farmers supervised every cartload before it went in the silos. They were perfectly happy. He was...well not perfectly happy with the price, but happy enough to leave you a couple of sacks extra to distribute as you saw fit.”

“He did what?” she laughed.

“His people had miscounted, there were a couple of sacks over. I’d have dumped them with the rest myself if I’d been doing it, but you know what a stickler Aegeus is. These two weren’t accounted for and he just couldn’t turn a blind eye. Alector just dumped them at the docks. He didn’t actually say “to distribute as she sees fit” of course. But he said you can do what the hell you want with them. I was going to send them to the orphanage, but..”

“Aegeus said you needed my permission?” Kyra laughed.

“Of course,” Praxos nodded. “It has to go in his blessed records.”

“Aegeus’ blessed records might save us one day Praxos, you never -” Kyra was cut off by frantic barking as they reached the top of the slope approaching the villa.

Phoibe watched in shock, as a massive, slavering dog scrabbled through the gateway, almost knocking one of the guards off his feet as he barreled towards them, barking furiously. She loved dogs, but this was unnerving and she darted behind Kassandra, holding onto her hips and peeping out round her, fully expecting Praxos to leap to Kyra’s defense as the dog launched at her. Instead he stood back laughing as it nearly took Kyra off her feet.

“Orion, down, there’s a good boy,” she laughed as he completely ignored her, standing with his front paws on her shoulders, washing her face with his tongue. “You’re a good boy, well not right now. Right now you’re being a very naughty boy, but gods I’ve missed you,” she wrapped her arms around his beefy shoulders and buried her face in his doggy smelling fur.

“She has a dog?” Phoibe looked up at Kassandra.

“Did I not say?” she grinned.

“No, you did _ not _ say she has a dog!” she gazed at him in wonder.

Kyra caught her eye, noticing her wide, fascinated eyes. She glanced from Phoibe to Orion’s broad, slobbery grin and back again, an idea forming. “Would you like to come and say hello?” she tried to sound casual, to disguise how much she thought might ride on it. Phoibe thankfully seemed completely seduced by his bouncy presence. She approached cautiously. This was a very big dog, and not just tall, but massive. He seemed friendly though, if his waggling butt and sloppy licking was anything to go by.

“Orion, down now!” Kyra said firmly. Phoibe watched impressed, as he dropped to his butt like a sack of rocks, his tail sweeping an arc in the dust as he grinned broadly.

“He’s_ lovely_,” she breathed, already besotted.

“Yes, I know,” Kyra smiled, cautiously extending her hand. Phoibe was so preoccupied with Orion that she took it without thinking. “Orion, meet Phoibe,” Kyra held out their interlocked hands and Phoibe grinned delightedly as the big dog sniffed, licked curiously, and then pushed his wrinkled brow up to be petted.

“See,” Kassandra laughed as Phoibe sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around Orion’s neck, giggling happily as he slobbered over her face. “I told you that you’d be making friends in no time.” Impressed with her tactics, she caught Kyra’s eye. “Good thinking,” she mouthed.

“Kassandra didn’t tell me that you had a _ dog! _” Phoibe sighed the last word like a devoted lover. 

“Well that was very remiss of her!” Kyra raised her eyebrows and smirked in her direction. 

“In fairness, you didn’t mention him either,” Kassandra chuckled. The noise reminded Orion that he hadn’t greeted his mistress’ favourite human yet. The one who always smelled like her. He gave Phoibe a final wet kiss and launched himself at Kassandra, sending her sprawling back against a path-side bush. “Whoa, you great stupid hound,” she protested as he clambered over her, woofing and slobbering.

“He is not stupid!” Phoibe protested. “He’s beautiful.”

“Well you’ll learn,” Kassandra grumbled, struggling upright and easing him back to the ground. “That it’s perfectly feasible to be both beautiful _ and _ stupid.”

“Stop calling him stupid,” Phoibe said dreamily, watching him lollop off towards the villa. “He’s wonderful.”

“Thank you Phoibe,” Kyra risked a brief smile at her. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Where’s he going?” Phoibe looked up at her, puzzled and a shade dismayed.

“Home,” Kyra nodded. “To tell the others that we’re here,” she set off to follow him. Phoibe watched open-mouthed as she strode through the gateway, nodding to the guards in passing.

“Wait. Kyra lives...here?” she frowned at Kassandra.

“Indeed,” she took her hand. “And so do we now.”

“Wait. Hang on,” Phoibe dug in her heels as much as was possible with Kassandra on the other end of her arm. “What do you mean? Are we...I mean are we staying here till we get our own place? Thyia said they were building a place for the crew? Are we building our place too?”

“No,” Kassandra shook her head. “We’re living here. With Kyra.” She waited for a response from Phoibe that was not forthcoming. “When I said I was with Kyra, I meant _ with _ . We live here together. And now _ you _live with us.”

“But?” Phoibe looked anxiously towards the huge villa. Kyra was waiting by what she assumed was the front entrance. “Is she allowed to just walk in the front like that? What does she do here?”

“Well, it’s her home,” Kassandra urged her forward gently. “So yes, she can definitely go in through the front. So can we. In fact everyone is allowed in the front. Come on,” she smiled encouragingly. “People are waiting to meet you.”

More people, Phoibe thought? She kept hold of Kassandra’s hand as they walked up to the guards. Part of her half expected them to be challenged as they strode past, and up the steps, but instead they both nodded and smiled, murmured “Misthios Kassandra, welcome home.”

“It’s good to be back,” Kassandra paused. “Say hello to Phoibe,” she pushed her forward, smiling proudly. Phoibe gazed up at the two men. Every part of their armour seemed to blaze in the sun. It was difficult to make out their faces properly beneath their heavy helmets but they were smiling, she could tell that much. Expensive looking swords hung at their hips and they each had a sturdy spear propped in one hand, the tips glinting. “You’ll learn everyone’s names soon enough,” Kassandra smiled, placing an encouraging hand behind Phoibe’s head and ushering her towards the door where Kyra was waiting for them.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Praxos will introduce you around. Though now Evios and Itheus have met you, it’ll be all round the guard house by night fall. Everyone’s been very excited to meet you.”

That was all very well, thought Phoibe. But who was “everyone”? Why did Kyra live in a massive, fancy-looking place like this, surrounded by guards? The place was a palace, surely? Huge flower beds surrounded it, overflowing with herbs and blossoming plants, filling the air with their fragrance. She recognised the pungent scent of thyme and the sharp kick of mint, but the rest were unknown to her. The flowers were beautiful, glowing like jewels, colours she’d never encountered before. At the corners of the polished stone pathway she could see fruit trees, not just apples but dates and what looked like peaches. All of it, the colours, the light, the noise, the scents, it was making her head start to ache. 

She was relieved to see Kyra walk into the dim hallway and grateful to follow her. No sooner were they inside than an extremely pretty woman appeared at the far end of the corridor. Her face lit up with a smile on seeing Kyra and she ran into her open arms. Phoibe shot a quick glance up at Kassandra to see if she could garner anything from her expression, but she was standing, beaming contentedly. Whoever the newcomer was, she was half a head taller than Kyra, with honey-gold hair and the loveliest eyes, Phoibe thought. She looked admiringly at the elegant chiton the woman was wearing. It was a shade of dusty blue that she’d never seen before. Why had Kassandra not mentioned the colours? So many, so bright and varied, more than Phoibe could have imagined.

“Savina, it’s so good to see you again,” Kyra pressed a kiss to her cheek. It couldn’t be her sister, Phoibe thought, they looked nothing alike and surely Kassandra would have mentioned a pretty sister?

“Archon,” Savina seemed a little tearful. And there was that word again. Some sort of title? Phoibe had heard it murmured in greeting as they’d passed through the streets of the town, and again from the guards as they’d acknowledged Kyra’s return. “Praise Artemis that you are back with us safely,” she continued formally before breaking into a weepy smile. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“And I you, Savina,” Kyra held her close. “It’s good to be back. Even if there’s a pile of paperwork as tall as Orion by my desk, it’s still good to be home.”

Kyra hadn’t been much of a hugger on Kephallonia, Phoibe recalled, but it must have been shyness. She clearly wasn’t fundamentally opposed to it, she decided, watching as she cradled Savina’s head against the crook of her neck and rocked her a little in her embrace. She couldn’t be a servant, surely? There must be servants here. You couldn’t run a place this big on your own. But you wouldn’t hug a servant like that, would you? Or _ would _you? She didn’t know, never having encountered a servant before. There were the serving girls back at the tavern on Kephallonia, but they’d likely as not smack you in the nose if you called them a servant.

“Do_ I _ get a hug, Savina?” Phoibe jumped, she’d almost forgotten Kassandra was there. Looking up she saw her grinning affably and holding out her arms. “Did you miss _me_ just a little bit perhaps?” she winked playfully.

“Stop fishing, Kassandra,” Kyra shook her head, but there was a laugh in her voice. “It’s unbecoming.”

Savina darted a brief glance at her as though seeking approval before going to greet Kassandra. The hug she gave her was much less full blooded, Phoibe couldn’t help but notice. Her voice sounded warm and genuine though.

“Of course I missed you Misthios Kassandra. What I mean is we _ all _ missed you, obviously,” she corrected hastily. “The villa was very quiet without you.”

Why did everyone keep calling her Misthios Kassandra, Phoibe wondered? That was redundant, no? Like calling Sophitia, “Fish Seller Sophitia”. Was it some Silver Islands formality? Or just what rich people did? Kyra had to be rich to live in a place like this, after all. She was called back to the present by Kassandra’s tap on her shoulder and found herself the subject of Savina’s welcoming smile.

“It’s wonderful to meet you at last Phoibe,” she took a gentle hold of her hands and bent to meet her eyes. “We’ve heard so many stories about you. My name is Savina, I’m the Archon’s assistant, but I’m here to help you too. This must all seem very big and strange to you, I know it did to me when I first got here. But I hope you’ll grow to feel as happy here as I do.” Phoibe felt somewhat reassured beneath the emerald gleam of Savina’s eyes. The soft touch of her hands reminded her of Selene somehow and she felt her throat tightening. “If there is anything at all that I can do to help you settle in,” Savina continued. “Or if you just feel like you need someone to talk to, I hope you’ll think of me as a friend?”

Before Phoibe could manage to answer they were all startled by the slam of a door at the far end of the corridor and a reedy cry of “Oh my beloved Archon.” She sensed rather than heard the sigh that passed around the three women like a light breeze. Looking round, she spotted Praxos absenting himself with surprising speed and stealth for such a big man. Savina drew back at the slap of sandals on marble approaching at speed, and Phoibe looked in the direction of the sound.

A tall, thin, middle-aged man with a worry-lined face and dark wavy hair, grey at the temples was flapping down the corridor towards them, like a duck priming for take off. He shot a brief greeting to Kassandra in passing, but his eyes were locked on Kyra. For one astonished moment Phoibe thought that he was going to drop to his knees in front of her. In fact he was halfway down before Kyra managed to grab hold of his upper arms and stop him.

“That won’t be necessary Aegeus, please. How are you, my friend?”

“Oh Archon,” he clasped her hands in his and Phoibe saw his cheeks glistening with tears. “Infinitely better for your return. It has been like toiling through a wasteland in your absence.”

“Surely not, Aegeus,” Kyra smiled wearily. “You have had Savina and -”

“Mistress Savina has been as charming and efficient as always Archon, but she could not hope to fill your void. Who could?! Not a night has passed my dear Archon when I have not lain awake, tossing as I thought of you.” Phoibe shot a wary sidelong glance at Kassandra, but rather than smirking she was exchanging discreet eye-rolls with Savina. “Nightmarish images of your bloated corpse washed up on foreign shores, or you chained and humiliated at the hands of thuggish pirates -”

“Yes, I don’t think you need to elaborate any further, Aegeus,” Kyra used the same tone she had earlier, when instructing Orion to sit. “I am, as you can see, entirely unharmed.”

“Artemis be praised,” he released her hands to throw his own in the air. “Every day I have prostrated myself in her temple, pleading for your safe and speedy return. And my prayers at last are answered.”

“Well, thank you so much for that Aegeus, I’m sure that your interventions did not go unheard. I'm pleased to hear that everything ran smoothly in my absence.”

“Oh by the gods Archon -” his voice assumed a plaintive tone and he inhaled deeply.

Before he could embark on whatever epic of woe he had in mind, Savina intervened. “There’s really nothing that can’t wait until the morning, Aegeus,” she soothed, patting his arm. “I’m sure you want to go and offer thanks at the temple on your way home? But perhaps greet our new friend first?” she nodded at Phoibe.

“Eh? Ah! Of course!” he took a long, angular stride over to her. “How very remiss of me. A thousand apologies, Mistress Phoibe.”

“Oh that’s all right,” she began. “And just Phoibe will -”

“I am Aegeus,” he pressed a hand to his chest. “I have the unequaled honour of being our beloved Archon’s assistant, along with Mistress Savina of course. If she is her right-hand woman, perhaps I might be so bold as to consider myself her left-hand man,” he simpered. “And it is an honour to serve her in every way.” Phoibe heard Kassandra sigh as she shifted her weight from foot to foot and folded her arms. “You will soon come to learn what a tremendous blessing has been bestowed upon you Mistress Phoibe,” he raised a finger and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Your residence here will provide you with unrivaled opportunities to witness the workings of a well-oiled political machine in complete intimacy. Your path -”

“You know Aegeus,” Kassandra cut him off mid flow. “Savina makes a sound point. You want to get to the temple before all the good doves have gone, no?”

“Misthios?” he looked over.

“The temple Aegeus,” Savina took his arm. “It’s well past time we were on our way, and the Archon must be exhausted from her journey. Why don’t we stroll there together? I would like to thank the goddess for everyone’s safe return myself, and it would be much more pleasant to do so in company,” she gave her approving audience a brief apologetic smile over his shoulder.

“Ah, yes,” he nodded. “Tomorrow is, as they say, another day. Time enough for us to burden the Archon in the morning.”

As she ushered him towards the door Savina glanced back. “There’s one more person eager to make your acquaintance Phoibe,” she smiled. 

“Cymone’s still here?” Kassandra grinned delightedly.

“Indeed!” Aegeus made an effort to stop. “Despite my assurances to her that -”

“I do believe I see Praxos trying to attract our attention,” Savina interjected. “We should go and see what he wants, no?”

Aegeus dithered a moment and then creased his bushy brows thoughtfully. “You are quite right Mistress Savina, I have a number of things I would like to clarify with him about tomorrow. I was in fact hoping that we might discuss them with the Archon, but I…” his voice faded as Savina finally managed to half drag him through the door.

“Gods!” Kassandra exhaled loudly and let her head loll back on her shoulders. “Smoothly done Savina. I have_ not _ missed that,” she shook her head. “Cymone however!” she grinned down at Phoibe. “You’ll like Cymone,” she winked. “Come on,” she waved for her to follow her down the hallway.

Kyra was about to join them when Aegeus’ voice interrupted from outside, calling for her.

“Ignore him, love,” Kassandra suggested, grimacing sympathetically. “Come say hello to Cymone.”

“I can hardly leave Praxos and Savina to put up with him unaided,” Kyra shook her head. “I’ll see Cymone on her way out. Go have something to eat, and see if it’s possible to arrange a bath at short notice?”

Phoibe didn’t need to query their destination, the smell of food was answer enough. By now she wasn’t surprised by the size of the kitchen. A plump, middle-aged woman was humming to herself as she arranged plates and bowls on the table. She looked up as they entered and broke into a grin, holding out her arms and making a bee-line for Kassandra.

“I thought I heard you, come here, let me look at you. Now let me feel you,” she gave a broad wink. “Getting a hug out of the other three is like trying to winkle out the last bit of crab meat.”

Kassandra laughed, stooping significantly to wrap Cymone in a bear hug and press her nose against her cheek. “Gods, you smell good enough to eat,” she growled, rocking her back and forth playfully.

“Aye, I’m pretty sure you say that to all the girls,” Cymone laughed. “That’s enough now, you’ll be getting me sacked if the Archon catches us.”

“She’s outside, doing something with Aegeus, or to Aegeus, I’m not sure. Say goodbye on your way,” Kassandra was already casting a predatory eye over the table.

“Hmm. I bet she’s not doing what I wish she was doing. Fussy old bird. Anyway! You must be Phoibe at last? Are _ you _ a hugger Phoibe?”

“Most of the time,” she nodded.

“Thank the gods, Kassandra here can only do so much on her own eh?” Phoibe found herself pressed to the cook’s warm, pillowy bosom, she smelled of honey and lemons, and Phoibe closed her eyes for a moment, thinking how very tired she was suddenly. “Well,” Cymone brushed Phoibe’s hair back from her brow and eyed her appraisingly. “It’s nice to meet you at last. Kassandra here didn’t mention how tall and pretty you are. You should have a word with her about that.”

“I mentioned how brave and clever you are though,” she defended, around a mouthful of chicken. “I have my priorities right.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you big, uncouth bear,” Cymone shot over her shoulder. “Was she like this growing up?”

“Pretty much,” Phoibe nodded. “Selene is always telling her.”

“Aye, it’s like shouting at the sea,” she smiled. “She did say you like to eat though? And a cook always likes to hear that. Are you hungry now, sweetheart?”

“Erm, a little,” Phoibe answered with more courtesy than candor. She was exhausted more than anything else and Cymone saw it.

“You’re tired, my love?” she smiled at her grateful nod and cradled her face in her hands. “Right. For your information. There is always food in the kitchen and you are always welcome to eat it. If there is anything that you like or don’t like, let me know. You can always come in here for a chat, or a snack, or to keep an old lady company, but I might make you peel vegetables.”

“She _ will _ definitely make you peel vegetables,” Kassandra was halfway through denuding the chicken carcass, folding strips of juicy meat between a piece of flatbread.

“That’s all right,” Phoibe nodded happily. This, at least, sounded just like home. Her old home. “Clio says I’m good at peeling vegetables.”

“I bet you are,” Cymone wrapped a motherly arm around her shoulders and led her to the table, sitting her down and pouring a cup of water. She watched fondly as Phoibe gulped it down. “Better than shipboard water eh?” she stroked her hair. “The pump is through there in the yard. I don’t know if Kassandra told you, we have a bathroom? I got a bath organised when I got word you were docking. Anytime you want a bath, let me know. We have a handful of maids, but you’ll meet them soon enough.”

“It’s just us in the evenings though,” Kassandra brushed crumbs from her tunic and sat back, fingers interlaced across her belly. “You, me and Kyra. Well and Praxos of course, but he keeps to himself most nights.”

“Aye, I’d keep to myself too, if the alternative was sitting watching you two lovebirds, and then going to sleep with the dog!” Cymone was draping a thick cloak around her shoulders. “Anyway, sweetheart, the point is, you have the run of the place of an evening, you can romp around, make as much noise as you like.”

“Whoa!” Kassandra protested. “How about she comes round to _ your _ house of an evening to make as much noise as she likes?”

“You’d be very welcome Phoibe, any time,” Cymone kissed her forehead softly. “I’m very happy that you’re here, and I hope we’re going to be good friends. Now, what do you like for breakfast.”

“Anything really,” Phoibe was nibbling on a hunk of bread and chicken that Kassandra had slipped into her hand as they talked. “Whatever you make for everyone else,” she said politely.

“She likes eggs cooked any way, pancakes, fish, porridge,” Kassandra supplied, recognising her nervous hesitancy. “And she’s only little but she eats like a bear.”

“Good!” Cymone laughed, casting a final look around her domain. “I love feeding bears. I will see you in the morning, little one, get up whenever you like, I don’t stand on ceremony. Now, where’s the Archon? Throttling Aegeus?”

“By now, possibly. Good evening Cymone. It’s good to be back!” Kassandra called after her retreating figure.

“It’s good to have you back,” they heard her voice drift along the corridor.

The kitchen seemed very quiet now she’d left. Phoibe sat chewing her makeshift supper, far too weary to taste it. There were so many questions, but they seemed to her to be of such complexity that she didn’t know where to begin. Kassandra waited quietly, watching as she nibbled, eyelids drooping. Eventually she reached out and ruffled her hair, smiling tenderly at her drowsy, sun freckled face.

“Tired, little one?” she stroked her cheek, feeling Phoibe nod into her hand. “How about we have that bath and then get you ready for bed?”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe eventually gets an answer to her question, no thanks to Kassandra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Permit us to offer you an additional chapter in these trying times.

“What’s an Archon?” Phoibe murmured sleepily as she followed Kassandra up the wide stone stairs.

“Tell you what, let’s get into the bath and I’ll answer all your questions.”

By now Phoibe had come to expect that everything about the island and, more specifically the villa, would be bigger and fancier than anything she’d encountered before. Bigger and fancier than it had any need to be, she thought, struggling to pull off her salt stained tunic, weariness making her clumsy.  Kassandra noticed her fumbling and losing her balance and swiftly removed her own clothing, tossing it into a hamper to be laundered. Sitting on a stool by the steamy bath she hauled Phoibe onto her lap, helping her out of her tunic.

It reminded her so much of the first time she’d readied the little girl for a bath that she felt a lump thicken in her throat. “It’s nice to have a bathroom in the house,” she said quietly, easing Phoibe’s arms out of the thin linen undershirt she wore. “But I think I prefer the one at Selene’s really. It’s cosier.”  Phoibe stifled a yawn, rubbing at her prickly eyes with a fist and suddenly Kassandra’s heart ached with awkward tenderness towards her. She pulled her close and rested her lips against her head. “I know it all seems too big, and too loud, and too busy,” she whispered. “And nothing I could have said would have prepared you for that. But I promise you Phoibe, you will get bigger to match it.”

“What’s an Archon?”

Kassandra took a breath and unfastened Phoibe’s sandals. Clio was right, she was ready for some new ones. That would no doubt be taken care of almost immediately. The invisible workings of the villa machine would register that it was inappropriate for a child living with the Archon to be wearing sandals with a torn strap, and worn soles, and new ones would appear as if by magic.

“We could get you some new clothes eh?” she forgot the question as she slipped Phoibe’s threadbare loincloth down her legs. “New tunics? They have so many different colours here eh?”

“I like my old tunics,” Phoibe’s face crumpled, watching as Kassandra balled up her clothes and tossed them effortlessly across the room and into the hamper to join her own. “I don’t want  _ everything  _ to be new,” there was a tremble to her voice.

“You don’t need to get rid of the old ones Phoibe,” Kassandra got to her feet, cradling her to her chest. “But it would be nice to have a couple of new ones, no?'' She tested the water with a cautious toe and stepped into the bath. Sitting down, she eased Phoibe back between her knees, and reaching for the dipper began to rinse her hair. However hard you tried aboard ship, there was always lingering salt, she thought, combing her fingers gently through the damp waves and massaging Phoibe’s scalp.  “There’s a kind of reddish brown that I’ve seen, I think you’d look very good in that,” she ventured. “Perhaps we could ask Savina to help us? She knows about things like that… I think. Well Kyra does. I’m sure of that. And I’ve heard her talking with Savina about new styles and colours, you could go to the dressmakers with them, choose some cloth.”

“But I want to go with  _ you _ ,” Phoibe was fighting to keep her eyes open.

“All right, that’s a good idea,” Kassandra squeezed the excess water out of her hair and reached for a towel. “We could all go together, as a family.”

“Is that what this _ is _ ?” Phoibe’s voice wobbled as Kassandra rubbed her hair dry with her usual vigour. “A family?”

“Well…” she swallowed the guilt she could feel building. “Not yet perhaps. But it could be, one day. If we all work at it? What do you think?”  There was a long pause, so long that she could hear the faint fluttering of the lamp wicks. 

“Are you and Kyra married?” Phoibe said at last, not turning to look at her.

“Whoa, what?” Kassandra dropped the end of the towel in the water and fished it out clumsily, splashing water on the floor. “No! No, of course not.”

“But you never said we were a family with Clio, or Nephele, or any of the others,” Phoibe leaned forward and hugged her knees.

“No. I didn’t. Well, Clio _ is  _ family, but...I take your point. Not like this. But anyway, women can’t get married Phoibe, not to other women, you know that.”

“I don’t know _ what  _ I know anymore,” she sounded distressed. “I didn’t know that they built buildings so high. Or that dates came off trees like that. Or that you could dye things so blue. Or that Kyra had a _ dog _ !”

“He’s a nice dog, no?” Kassandra clutched hopefully at the straw.

“He’s a wonderful dog. I love him. But I didn’t know he existed till today. Or that she lived in a palace. Or that  _ we _ have to live here too.”

“It’s not a palace Phoibe. I get that it seems -”

“How do _ I  _ know?” she protested. “I don’t know what a palace looks like. I’ve never seen anything this big, Kassandra. I thought it was a temple or something when we were coming to it. Not that it was Kyra’s  _ house _ . Why didn’t you tell me that you lived with her? That you lived together, like a couple, with a  _ dog _ and everything?”

“It’s not been for long yet, it’s new for me too, Phoibe, but I thought I did,” Kassandra dredged back through her memory to the night in the cave. “Didn’t I say that, when we were in your hideout? That I loved her and that she was different from my other girlfriends?”

“Sort of, maybe, I don’t know,” Phoibe looked back over her shoulder, chewing at her trembling lower lip. “But why can’t you ever just tell me what you mean? Why didn’t you just say that you were together like this? That… I don’t know, Kassandra,” she tailed off. “It’s a lot. It’s all such a lot. And what _ is _ an Archon? Will you at least just tell me  _ that _ ?!”

Before Kassandra could reply, there was a tap at the door.  “That’s going to be Kyra,” she whispered. “What would you like me to say?”

“Whatever you want,” Phoibe gave a sullen shrug and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

“Can she come in?”

“She can do whatever she likes can’t she? It’s her palace, house, whatever.”

“Is everything all right in there?” Kyra was trying to disguise how hesitant she felt, with less than stellar results.

Kassandra considered for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Sort of, but not exactly. Come in Kyra, please.”

The door creaked open a little, brighter light from the corridor slicing in, and Kyra peeped around, looking hopeful. “Is this all right, Phoibe?”  She nodded, biting her lips.  “Are you sure?” Kyra stayed where she was. “You don’t  _ seem _ sure. If you want to spend some time alone with Kassandra, I understand, and I... damn it Orion,” her composure slipped as the big dog shouldered his way past her legs and lolloped over to the bath, putting his paws on the edge and shoving his cold, wet nose into the crook of Phoibe’s neck, making her giggle despite herself.

“Orion that’s very rude,” Kyra tried not to smile. “You are going to have to learn his commands, Phoibe,” she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, but didn’t approach.

“Can I?” she was rubbing his ears and laughing as he tried to burrow into her chest, wagging his tail frantically. “Will he listen to me?”

“Absolutely!” Kyra nodded. “If you learn the right words and the right tone of voice.”

“Are you sure?” Kassandra leaned back, out of his tongue range. “Because he doesn’t listen to me.”

“That’s probably because you call him stupid,” Phoibe kissed his furrowed brow.

“There you go,” Kyra shrugged. “Phoibe’s worked it out already.”

“Come in love, sit down eh?” Kassandra held out a hand. “I think it’s time we had a talk, the three of us...four of us,” she grimaced as Orion dropped a paw in the water. “Do  _ not _ encourage that dog into the bath Phoibe!”

“All right,” she sighed. “You have to get down, Orion.”

“Say “down” more firmly. Not crossly, just as though you mean it,” Kyra advised, perching on the stool by the bath, her hands folded in her lap to disguise the fact that they were trembling slightly.

Phoibe followed her instructions and watched delightedly, as he flopped down beside the bath with a frustrated sigh. They sat in silence for a while, Kassandra folding a washcloth and beginning to rub at Phoibe’s back and shoulders.

“How are you Phoibe?” Kyra asked at last. 

“I’m all right, thank you,” she responded automatically.

“No, I mean how are you  _ really _ ?” Kyra turned to face them, placing her hands tentatively on the edge of the tub. “I’m concerned that this has all been too much for you? Too many new names and faces and places all at once.” Cymone had subjected her to a meaningful, one sided, “conversation” on the matter before departing for the night.

“What’s an Archon?” Phoibe turned to look at her. “I’ve asked Kassandra lots of times now and she keeps not telling me, and I don’t know if it’s because it’s a bad thing and I’m not supposed to know, or if she doesn’t know, or what?”

Kyra sat stunned for a moment and then began to laugh. “Let’s give Kassandra the benefit of the doubt shall we?” she wiped her eyes. “And assume that she’s just easily distracted. It’s not a bad thing no. Not in itself. If a bad person is the Archon then you have a bad Archon, if you have a good person then…” she shrugged. “I do my best to be a good Archon, Phoibe. I don’t know if I always succeed but I do try. And I surround myself with people like Praxos and Savina, and even Aegeus, to make sure that I keep trying.”

“But what _ is  _ it?”

“In fairness to Kassandra, it’s tricky to explain. You don’t have an Archon on Kephallonia,” she heard Kassandra’s snort of derision. “But it’s someone like a governor?” Kyra suggested. “The people decided that they trusted me to organise things on the Silver Islands. To set taxes, and authorise building, to establish trade with our neighbours, to make rules.”

“You’re like the...queen, or something?” Phoibe frowned.

“No, not really,” Kyra pursed her lips, considering. “I don’t come from a special family, my mother wasn’t royalty. This villa? It’s not mine to own. If the people decided that they didn’t want me as their Archon anymore then I’d have to leave and find a different place to live.”

“Are you rich then?”

“Not personally no,” she shook her head. “Though I understand why you might think that. The money we make from trade and taxes goes to run the Islands, to repair the temples, to build schoolhouses, to look after the poor, to expand the docks. I get to live in this fancy place because sometimes I need to impress people, to let them see that the Silver Islands are prosperous and safe, good to trade with. Living here, eating nice food, wearing nice clothes, taking a bath in a fancy room like this? I suppose that’s my reward for working hard.”

“So...you’re like the boss of the Silver Islands?” she ventured.

“In a way, yes,” Kyra nodded. “That’s not a bad way of putting it.”

“She is absolutely the boss,” Kassandra slipped her a suggestive wink as she felt Phoibe beginning to relax.

“Why didn’t you just say that, Kassandra?”

“Well I had a lot of things to try and explain,” she laughed at the sharp reproof in Phoibe’s tone.

“But you didn’t really explain  _ any _ of them,” she sighed, leaning back against her. “Except that bit about sex when- “

“And like Kyra says, it was tricky,” Kassandra interrupted, avoiding Kyra’s eyes. “There’s no Archon on Kephallonia because it’s such a shithole that no-one -”

“Language Kassandra,” Phoibe tried to stifle a yawn, with partial success. “So, how long do you have to be the Archon for, Kyra?”

“Good question,” she watched as Phoibe turned in Kassandra’s arms and rested her head against her chest, looking at Kyra with drowsy, half-lidded eyes. “Till I finish the work I have planned, I hope. To make the Silver Islands a better place, where people don’t go hungry, where everyone has a roof over their head and a job, where all of our children can receive a decent education, where we can honour the gods  _ and _ take advantage of the healer’s skills. There’s a lot I want to do Phoibe, and it’s slow work and not everyone is on my side. So, if the people decide they don’t like the way I’m running things they could get rid of me. Or I could die I suppose.”

“Let’s not do that for a bit, eh?” Kassandra slid down a little further in the water to let Phoibe recline more comfortably. She could feel her head becoming heavier against her chest as sleep crept closer.

“I see,” Phoibe gave an expansive yawn, too tired to cover her mouth. “What does Kassandra do then? Does she work for you? Is that it?”

“It looks like that I suppose.” Emboldened by Phoibe’s current responsiveness, Kyra reached out and stroked the damp tendrils of hair back from her brow. “She works for the Silver Islands, the same way that I do. Helps the guards keep the peace. Hunts with Praxos. But she also looks after me, keeps me safe.” 

“Because she loves you?” Phoibe’s eyelids were drooping, she raised a hand and for a moment Kyra thought she was about to suck her thumb, but instead she reached for Kassandra’s arm, stroking her fingers back and forth along the taut, silky scar tissue on her bicep.

“Yes Phoibe,” Kyra said quietly, tentatively brushing the plump curve of her cheek. “We look after each other, because we love each other. And we’ll look after you too now. The three of us, we’ll all look after each other.”

“Like a family?” Phoibe murmured drowsily. 

Kyra raised her own gaze to Kassandra, smiling hopefully as she answered the sleepy query. “If you’d like that?”

“I think so..I think I’d like to try perhaps.”

“Good enough,” Kyra took a moment to get her voice under control. “I’m sorry we handled everything so clumsily Phoibe. We should have sat down and talked together right at the beginning.”

“It was probably Kassandra’s fault,” her voice was barely audible now. “She’s not good at that sort of thing.” 

Phoibe was out like a light Kassandra realised after a few minutes, feeling her becoming limp in her arms. The last thing she wanted on their first night home was to have to summon a healer because she’d dropped a slippery Phoibe while climbing out of the bath.  “Do you think you could get a towel and take her from me?” She gave Kyra a hopeful look. “I don’t want to wake her.”

“No, of course!” she seemed only too eager. Unfolding a large towel, she draped it across her lap and reached over to take Phoibe from her.

“She’s heavier than you expected, no?” Kassandra laughed at her grunt of effort. “She’s little, but she’s solid,” she watched fondly as Kyra wrapped her in the towel and began to gently pat her dry. “You know,” she began to scrub at her shoulders, giving a playful flex as she saw Kyra turn to her. “This water is still pretty clean, relatively speaking. You could put Phoibe to bed and…” she tailed off, waggling her eyebrows.

“Seriously Kassandra?” she rolled her eyes. “You’re suggesting I come back so we can fool around in a tepid bath that you and Phoibe have just washed in?”

“You’re tempted, I can see it in your eyes,” Kassandra draped a powerful leg over the side of the bath and began to scrub suggestively.

“I’m sitting here with a young child on my lap,” Kyra tutted, as Phoibe mumbled in her sleep and snuggled a little closer to her. “You’re going the right way about spending your first night home in one of the guest rooms.”

“Indeed?” she laughed, soaping under her arms. “I’ll take the room opposite Phoibe’s shall I? See how long you can resist my siren call.”

“Don’t test me, Misthios, not when I was looking forward to…”

Kassandra waited for the conclusion to the sentence as she scrubbed at her feet, but eventually had to admit it wasn’t coming. “Looking forward to?” she turned and saw Kyra cradling Phoibe to her with one arm while she slowly and carefully dried her hands and between her toes, running her fingers tenderly over the small knuckles already nicked here and there with scars. “Are you all right, love?” she leaned on the side of the tub, arms folded.

“What was she like?” Kyra’s voice was barely above a whisper. “When you first met her?”

“Phoibe?” Kassandra gave a weary huff. “Haven’t I told you that tale?”

“You are hopeless,” Kyra shook her head, tracing the edges of Phoibe’s fingernails. “No. Barely. You found her camping after...after her parents-”

There was a surge of water, fat splashes on the floor, as Kassandra emerged. She took another towel, shaking it out and wrapping it around herself before crouching down on her haunches in front of Kyra.  “I  _ will _ tell you. Now that she’s here with us, I will tell you my love,” she rubbed Phoibe’s knee tenderly, feeling the soft new skin where a recently acquired scrape had healed. “But not tonight, please? It’s not a happy story.”

“Do you ever wonder what she was like as a baby?” Kyra combed the fine hair back from Phoibe’s brow, cradling her a little closer.

Kassandra thought for a moment, watching as Phoibe’s eyes twitched, her thick, dark lashes fluttering as she sank deeper into sleep. “No,” she realised. “I can’t say that I ever have. I’ve never given much thought to babies really. Not after Alexi.”

“Oh gods,” Kyra looked up, her expression remorseful. “I didn’t think, I’m so sorry Kassandra.”

“Don’t get upset now,” she got to her feet. “That did turn out to be a happy story, sort of, by Spartan standards anyway. I don’t know all that much about babies,” she looked at Phoibe. “I imagine she drank more than the usual amount of milk, and did less than the usual amount of crying. She’s a hardy little thing, so I suppose she was then too. But... blue eyes. I’m sure someone once told me they all have blue eyes at first, is that right?”

Kyra shook her head, laughing softly. “I don’t know what I expected,” she wrapped the towel more snugly around Phoibe and got to her feet with a grimace of effort. “And what colour are her eyes now?” she teased and was surprised when Kassandra’s expression shifted to serious.

“When the light hits them just right they’re a pure, clear brown, the rest of the time you can see the little yellowish flecks in them, with the thinnest band of gold around her pupil.”

It took Kyra a moment to be able to respond. “And mine?” she feigned casualness.

“Oh Kyra!” Kassandra laughed knowingly. “Really? Dark as the woods, rich as the sun on the pelt of a bear. And sometimes as deep and black as the ocean at night. I could look at them every day and discover something new,” she paused then grinned playfully. “So... brown.”

Kyra felt her vision begin to swim and disguised it with a laugh. “You are full of surprises Kassandra of Sparta.”

“I try my best. Do you want me to carry her, or can you manage?”

“I can manage to carry a child to bed I think,” she hitched Phoibe a little higher and nodded for Kassandra to open the door. “After a few weeks behind a desk though, who knows.”

Someone, Praxos or Barnabas, most likely both, had carried Phoibe’s belongings up to her room. They’d untied the bear skin and spread it out on the floor by her bed. Back at Selene’s it had covered most of the floor, it looked a little smaller here.  It was certainly Barnabas who had folded back the covers and spread out the blanket of lynx furs. There would be some familiarity for her at least when she woke, Kassandra thought gratefully as she rummaged in Phoibe’s bag for a clean nightshirt. She grumbled and shifted as they dressed her and tucked her in, but not enough to wake and acknowledge them.

“We should leave a lamp burning, do you think?” Kyra stopped at the door and watched as Kassandra bent and kissed her good night.

“She’s not afraid of the dark,” she tucked her slipping towel a bit more tightly. “Just thunderstorms.”

“I’m not suggesting that she is,” Kyra shrugged. “Just that it can be unnerving to wake in a strange new place.” Unbidden, a memory came to her of clawing her way out of sleep, sweaty with terror in an unfamiliar tent, animal cries loud outside, as a strange woman tried to comfort her. “I’ll bring one from our room.”  When she returned, she had a low burning lamp in one hand and in the other Phoibe’s wooden eagle. Kassandra looked at it quizzically. “She gave it to you so you’d have a part of her with you, no?” She placed the lamp out of harm’s way and positioned Chara on the small table by the bed. “Well you have all of her now. Chara should go home, don't you think?”

Kassandra pressed her lips together firmly, nodding, not trusting herself to speak right away. She watched as Kyra fussed unnecessarily with the blankets for one last time and then followed her to their bedroom.

Whoever had prepared it for their return had done a good job at short notice. Fresh linens, scented with lavender covered the bed. There was wine and water, biscuits and fruits on a table by the balcony, and fresh flowers on Kyra’s dressing table.

“Savina undoubtedly,” Kyra responded to Kassandra’s observation as she began to undress. “Gods, I’ll be glad to see the back of these tunics,” she tossed it, and her discarded underwear, into the laundry hamper. “Gelon has sewn up so many tears for me. They should probably be used for rags now,” she sat to brush her hair.

“So you’re telling me that  _ Savina _ provided us with a bowl of very ripe figs and some honey for our first night home?” Kassandra asked, removing her towel. “How very suggestive of her,” she tore a fig in half, dipped part in the smoky honey and popped it in her mouth. “Damn! Remind me to thank her in the morning.”

“Don’t start already, let her have just one morning without you -” Kyra laughed, getting to her feet and catching her breath as she turned and saw Kassandra standing naked in the lamplight, holding up a portion of fig, dark honey sliding down her wrist. “She...I mean...don’t…” she swallowed with some difficulty.

“Don’t take too long about this,” Kassandra laughed suggestively, holding up her hand. “Or you’re going to be licking honey from far and wide.”

Kyra found herself pulled towards her as if by some invisible force. As she drew close she could smell the scent of the fruit. Catching Kassandra’s hand in hers she bent and licked up her forearm, over the sharp bones of her wrist till she reached the dripping honey and yielding flesh. She heard Kassandra gasp softly as she took it in her mouth, closing her lips around her fingers, sucking in fruit and syrup, running her tongue slow and teasing between her knuckles, chasing scraps of tender skin, the tiny seeds.

Even once she had the fruit in her mouth she kept Kassandra’s fingers there, sucking up along their length, running the tips of them across her sticky lips, before drawing them in deep again, moaning as she licked between them. She could hear Kassandra’s breath becoming quick and ragged, as she closed her eyes and sucked hard along the full length of her fingers, releasing them at last and smiling seductively as she chewed what remained of the syrupy fruit.

“Gods, Kyra,” Kassandra’s voice was husky as she reached for her hips, seeking to pull her in close as she bent to kiss her, licking hungrily into her mouth, chasing the thick sweetness.

“Good?” she broke the kiss and drew back, bracing her hands against Kassandra’s chest, keeping her at bay.

“So good, so very good,” Kyra could feel her pressing against her hands, grasping hard at her hips, moving to reclaim her mouth.

“Well let’s not have Savina’s thoughtfulness go to waste eh?” she eased out of her grasp and reached over to the table. Keeping her eyes on Kassandra throughout, she picked up the small dish of honey that had been provided, and dipped the tip of one finger in, licking it clean with a seductive smile.  “It really is very good, no?” she arched an eyebrow and locking onto Kassandra’s eyes tilted the dish slightly, waiting for the thick, liquid gold to gather at the rim, building and building till it broke tension and fell in slow, glistening strands onto her breasts.

Kassandra gave a deep throaty groan, and stood for a minute, torn between desires. On the one hand to grab hold of Kyra, to pull her close and begin to devour her with greedy kisses, and on the other to watch as she moved the dish from side to side, pouring a delicate tracery of golden honey over the swell of her breasts, moving to allow it to catch on the peaks of her tight, dark nipples.

Kyra watched as Kassandra’s eyes darkened, saw her fingers twitching impatiently against her thighs. She bent her knees and placed the half empty dish back on the table. “Shall we?” she looked at her from beneath lowered lashes, licking her lips invitingly. 

Kassandra was on her in an instant, grasping hard at the plush flesh of Kyra’s ass and lifting her effortlessly till she could lock her legs around her hips, surging against her so that she could feel Kyra’s molten sex branding the hard muscle of her belly. She barely had to bow her head now to lick the sticky web from her breasts with broad, greedy sweeps of her tongue, before taking a glistening nipple into her mouth, sucking deep and hard.

“Welcome home, Kassandra,” she heard Kyra gasp as she bore her to their bed.

  
  


Phoibe didn’t know what had woken her. Voices perhaps? She could hear men murmuring, and quiet laughter outside. Outside  _ where _ , she thought? She could feel the familiar silky warmth of the furs on her bed, but nothing else felt the same. The pillow was hard and new, without the comforting divot her head had formed over the months. And these weren’t her covers, they felt stiff and heavy.  Opening her eyes she didn’t recognise anything, strange shadows danced on far walls in the flickering lamplight. Where was her shelf with Barnabas’ wolf? Where was the table where she drew, and practiced her writing? She sat up, her heart beating a panicky tattoo in her chest, the blood singing in her ears.

Where was Kassandra? She’d been with Kassandra hadn’t she? She needed to find her again. Swinging her legs out of bed, she stubbed her toes painfully on a low table that had no business being there. Her table was different, and over by the window. And not that big window with the scary tree outside. As she stumbled to the door, her toes throbbing painfully, she heard the cry of a wolf. Not half as far away as it should be.

“Kassandra?” she whispered, her hands roaming over the expanse of the strange door, searching for the handle. This wasn’t her door handle, she realised, recoiling with shock. For a moment she couldn’t work out how to turn it, how to open the door, feared she was trapped in here. Then it shifted with a click and she pulled the door open with such force that she nearly caught herself in the nose.  “Kassandra?” she tried again, a little more loudly this time, half afraid that someone or something else might hear her instead. “Where are you?” she rubbed her bleary eyes and peeped out of the door.

An unfamiliar corridor stretched off into the distance getting darker and darker the further away she looked. She was in that huge house, she remembered suddenly. How had she got up here? She tried to steady her breath, fighting back the temptation to cry. Crying solved nothing, she reminded herself.  She remembered arriving at the docks, meeting a lot of new people. Nice people but too many all at once. She couldn’t remember all their names now. The big scary looking man with the kind eyes? The pretty woman with the hair like Europa’s and the hands like Selene’s? The lady in the kitchen, the cook who had hugged her and smelled of honey.

Her pulse was slowing a little now. She licked her dry lips and tried again. Orion! Kyra’s big, friendly dog. She wished he was here now. The big man, Praxon? He had said they would go hunting? Was Orion a hunting dog? Would he be allowed to come with them? He was a nice dog. He’d tried to get in the bath with her and Kassandra. 

The bath! She’d fallen asleep in the bath. Kyra had come in and told her that she would teach her how to talk to Orion. She’d been nice. She was different here on Mykonos. More relaxed, more huggy somehow. Because she was home. And Phoibe was scared because she wasn’t at home. But Kassandra had said that  _ this _ was home now. Her and Kyra and Phoibe. They were going to live together in this huge house with too many rooms.  Where was Kassandra’s room? She didn’t remember being shown. She looked back through the open door behind her. That must be her own room. But she didn’t remember being shown this either. She’d fallen asleep in the bath with Kassandra and she’d brought her here and put her to bed, and now Phoibe didn’t know where she was.

The tiles of the corridor were chill beneath her bare feet as she took her first faltering steps. Should she go back, she wondered, running her fingers across the cool wall? What if she went wandering off looking for Kassandra and got lost? How big did wolves get here? She glanced back to the dim shadows of the bedroom. Did they come near human dwellings here?  She looked both ways along the corridor. To her left was an eventual dead end, off to her right a tall upright with a flickering lamp atop it illuminated the stone banisters of the stairs. She remembered following Kassandra up, they’d seemed to go on forever. There had been three floors at Selene’s but only a handful of rooms on each. Who knew how many there were here?

When she’d followed Kassandra up to the bathroom, they’d passed so many doors, some closed and mysterious, others opening onto rooms. Rooms full of furniture but with no one in them. It was too much, Phoibe thought, why would anyone need so many rooms? Kassandra could be in any of them. She may not even be on this floor. What if she wasn’t even in the house? What if she and Kyra had gone out for a stroll? Gelon had said it was romantic somehow to walk in the moonlight with your girlfriend. What if they’d decided to do that?  Her heart was beginning to race again. She tried to remember what Kassandra had taught her. Think about your surroundings. Is there any immediate danger? If so, what can you do to reduce it? 

There wasn’t, she supposed. She was in a new place, she didn’t have her bearings. But Kassandra wouldn’t leave her where she might be in danger. She needed to calm down. She should go back to that bedroom. Wait for sunrise. People would be back then. People who could tell her where Kassandra was.  But she just wanted to see her. Just to reassure herself that she was here. That she hadn’t wandered off on some errand, whether romantic or business, just -

The faint sound of voices coming from her right interrupted her thoughts. That was Kassandra’s voice. Her heart leapt again, from joy this time. That was definitely her. Keeping one hand on the wall, she followed the sound. She hadn’t been far at all. All this panic and she had just been a couple of rooms away, she realised. She’d been panicking over nothing. If she could just see her now, just say goodnight to her. She’d been asleep when she’d put her to bed. If she could just -

The doors were thicker and heavier here than back at Selene’s. Thick enough to muffle voices, but yes, that was Kassandra and there was Kyra. Of course they shared a room. She should have thought of that. Trotting across the corridor she placed her hands against the door and rested her forehead between them with a little sigh. Had she been thinking of something other than the prospect of seeing Kassandra, then Kyra’s shuddering “ahhh fuck!” might well have dissuaded her from what she did next.

“Kassandra?” she pounded on the door with the flat of her hands. “Kassandra? Are you there? Please?”

Somehow the silence managed to be uncomfortable even through the thick wood of the door. 

“What is it, Phoibe?” Kassandra answered at last, sounding less than thrilled. “It’s very late, you should be in bed.”

“Please Kassandra, I need you,” Phoibe rested her head against the door. “Just for a minute, please.”  She heard Kyra speaking, too low to make out what she was saying, but she didn’t sound cross.

“I just -”  The door swung open so suddenly that Phoibe toppled in after it. She found herself, not face to face, but face to belly with a naked Kassandra. She took hold of Phoibe’s shoulders and helped her regain her balance. There was a thin smear of what looked like fig seeds across the crest of her hip. This was why Selene told you not to talk with your mouth full, Phoibe thought.

“What’s the problem, Phoibe?” Kassandra scowled down at her. She had the flushed, impatient appearance of someone who had just been wrist deep in a woman and was eager to get back to it. “It’s late to be wandering around.”

“I woke up and I didn’t know where I was,” Phoibe began to wonder if she might have been better off retreating back to the strange bedroom after all. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“Kassandra?” Kyra’s voice came from across the room. “Is Phoibe all right?”

She looked down at her, a little more kindly now and gave a sigh. “You’re all right, aren’t you little one? Just a bit scared because you didn’t know where you were. But you do now, no? Why don’t you go back to bed, get some sleep, and tomorrow I’ll show you around the place, then it’ll seem less scary?”

“Can I sleep with you?” Phoibe glanced back down the dim corridor. “Just for tonight?”

“Ah no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Let’s just -”

“What is it?” Kyra appeared behind Kassandra. She’d searched unsuccessfully for some clothing, and then recalling that she’d tossed it all in the laundry had slid out of bed, dragging a sheet around her. Tucking it into a makeshift chiton she eased Kassandra out of the way and looked down at Phoibe. She looked tiny now, standing barefoot in the dim corridor, wearing just a linen nightshirt, her hair loose and messy.  “Oh sweetheart,” she crouched down and reached for her hands, touched when she didn’t flinch away or eye her suspiciously. “It’s strange waking up in a new place, yes? You were fast asleep when we put you to bed. Perhaps we should have woken you, maybe that would have made it less scary. I’m sorry. We’re new at this, but we’ll get better,” she glanced up at Kassandra who was looking more sympathetic now.

“Can I sleep with you two?” Phoibe ventured. She’d done it back at Selene’s. Admittedly it had been born out of necessity there but the point was she had shared a bed with Kyra before, it wasn’t so weird.

Kyra shot an inadvertent glance over her shoulder as she considered the state of the bed. “I think Kassandra meant to say,” she sighed. “That it’s a good idea to get used to your new room as soon as you can. We can put another lamp in there and have a good look at it and then it won’t seem so strange,” she saw Phoibe’s face dropping and had an idea.  “Perhaps,” she got to her feet. “This is just a suggestion,” she stroked her chin, pantomiming thoughtfulness. “You don’t have to say yes of course. But I wonder if you’d like to have Orion sleep with you?”

Before she could carry on, Phoibe had grabbed hold of a fistful of her sheet with dangerous enthusiasm. “Yes! Oh yes, please. Can he? Will he? Is he allowed on the bed? Where is he?” she peered into the room.

“Well,” Kyra laughed, retrieving the sheet from her eager hand and tucking it more tightly about herself. “He sleeps with Praxos most nights, but Praxos is a big boy now, he can sleep on his own eh?” she winked at Phoibe.

“Will he not be cross?” She looked concerned.

“Praxos?” Kassandra snorted. “I should think he’d be glad to have the room to himself. You’re sure you want to share with a big, slobbery, farty dog? He takes up a lot of space.”

“Yes!” Phoibe grabbed her hand, and registering how sticky it was dropped it again instantly. “I’ve shared with  _ you _ , it’ll be fine,” she heard Kyra’s delighted laughter. “No, no,” she patted the cleanest looking bit of Kassandra’s hip. “I don’t mean that you’re farty, just that you’re big, you take up a lot of room. Please. Can I please?”

“I’ll go and get him,” Kyra was still laughing as she walked towards the stairs. “Kassandra will tuck you in while you wait eh?”

“I’m sorry,” Phoibe said minutes later, as Kassandra did just that, tucking the blankets in as tight as bandages. “I’m sorry I woke you up. But there were noises. Men talking under the window.”

“Just the guards little one,” Kassandra poured her a cup of water and sat down on the bed beside her as she sipped it. “You have nothing to be scared of. All those men and women are here to protect you, and so am I. I would die before I let anything bad happen to you Phoibe.”

“Don’t say that,” she handed back the cup. She was hungry now she realised. She’d eaten nothing since morning apart from the chunk of bread and chicken that Kassandra had slipped into her hand earlier. But she didn’t want to say anything. Kassandra would go wandering off to the kitchen and right now her company was more satisfying than food. She could smell honey though and it was making her mouth water.

“Well it’s true,” Kassandra chucked her under the chin. “My two favourite girls are in this house. I’d protect them both with my life...ow! for fuc-Zeus’ sake Orion!” she scrambled to protect her crotch as he barreled in through the door, scrabbled over her and flopped on top of Phoibe, licking her madly.

“Did he find you?” Kyra followed a few seconds later, a plate in her hand.

“Damn it Kyra,” Kassandra was examining the scratches on her thigh. “Was that  _ your _ doing?”

“I told him to find Phoibe,” she gave a brief sympathetic tut. “And he did!”

“Is he allowed to sleep on the bed?” Phoibe’s giggly question was muffled by him nuzzling into her neck.

“If you’d like him to,” Kyra smiled, putting the plate down on the table. There was a thick piece of moist looking cake and a sliced peach. “I didn’t know if you were hungry?”

“Yes, thank you,” Phoibe struggled upright in her Kassandra constructed cocoon of blankets.

“I didn’t know there was cake,” Kassandra eyed it approvingly, reaching out to break off a crumb.

“You gave up cake. Remember?” Kyra winked, smacking her hand.

“You did?” Phoibe mumbled around a mouthful, looking astonished.

“Only a particular type,” Kyra smiled. “But that’s for you. Kassandra’s had her supper.”

“Mmm,” Phoibe took a sip of water to clear her mouth. “Figs, yeah, I can see,” she nodded.

Kyra followed her glance and blushed hotly. “By the way,” she aimed to distract. “I prefer Orion not to have too many people treats, it makes him fat.”

“And farty,” Kassandra slipped a slice of peach into her mouth and licked her fingers. “Remember that, when he’s snuggling up to you in the morning.”

“I’ve never held it against  _ you _ , my love,” Kyra smirked. She held out her hand to Phoibe. In her palm were three small, thick, dry looking biscuits. “These are his. But you must make him get off the bed and sit to have them, all right? You know how to tell him to get down now.”

Phoibe nodded, her mouth full of cake and her eyes locked on Orion’s drooly grin. She swallowed at last and turned to face her. “Thank you for the cake. And for lending me Orion especially.”

“You’re welcome. Praxos says you may have Orion to sleep with you any night you like. I will see you tomorrow. Though I may be at work when you get up. Sleep well, Phoibe,” she was halfway to going for a kiss goodnight, but reconsidered at the last moment and ruffled Orion’s ears instead. “Be a good boy,” she warned, making for the door.  Leaning around it she looked back and gave Kassandra a suggestive smile. “Don’t be too long. You have your supper to finish.”

Once she’d gone, Phoibe looked at the door for a moment or two, her expression pensive. “She’s nicer here somehow,” she sucked crumbs from her thumb. “Like more...I don’t know...just more…” she tailed off, unsure how to express it.

“Confident?” Kassandra suggested, rubbing absently at the scratch on her leg.

“Hmm,” she nodded. “Yes. I think so. She seems nice. I can sort of see how you think she’s fun.”

“You’re sure you aren’t just saying that because she lent you her dog?” Kassandra laughed, getting to her feet.

“Maybe,” Phoibe conceded as Orion, realising that he wasn’t getting any cake flopped down across her legs and heaved a great sigh. “You can have a bit of cake you know,” she held out the plate. “I won’t tell Kyra.”

Kassandra shook her head chuckling, but accepted a couple of slices of peach. “Let’s not start by keeping secrets from her eh? You’re all right now? Want me to turn up the lamp?”

“No. Thank you. I’m good now,” Phoibe put down the plate and wriggled back into bed with some difficulty now that she had a deadweight dog to contend with. “Now I’ve got Orion. Goodnight Kassandra,” she watched her stride to the door and gave her a little wave as she peeped around it and winked.   
  


Entering their bedroom and shutting the door quietly after her Kassandra shook her head chuckling. “Well, you are certainly earning a lot of points toni -” she turned and stopped, mid-word at the sight of Kyra with her back to her, lowering her makeshift chiton until it hung in an elegant curve just above the swell of her buttocks.

“Aren’t I?” she smirked over her shoulder, dropping the sheet three more inches and watching Kassandra’s eyes follow its progress. 

“To...night,” she continued distractedly, unable to look away. “She...I think she...she thinks you’re more...fun...I think…”

“She who controls the dog, controls the fun, it seems,” Kyra let go of the sheet, allowing it to whisper down around her ankles. “Why don’t you come and find out for yourself?”

  
  
  



	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we're reminded that Kassandra is a lover of the visual arts.

Waking the following morning Kassandra was slightly disappointed but not really surprised to find that Kyra had been up long enough for her side of the bed to have cooled. She yawned expansively feeling her jaw crack and gave a luxuriant full body stretch so that her other joints might also feel the benefit.  Clambering out of bed, flexing her shoulders she cast an eye over the linens. One night back and they really needed laundering already. Her hands felt sticky and she knew that if she lifted them to her nose, she’d smell honey and sex.  Kyra had been wonderfully playful and affectionate yesterday, both in and out of the bedroom, she reflected, filling the wash bowl and sniffing appreciatively at the scented soap. Much as she enjoyed her times aboard the Adrestia, she had to confess she didn’t miss washing in brackish water and scrubbing at her skin with gritty chunks of fat that smelt of lye more than anything.

As she washed, she wondered whether she’d slept so deeply that she’d missed Savina’s routine alarm call, or if Kyra had been allowed to lie in on her first day back? The sun was higher than she’d expected. Phoibe would certainly not have been woken, she was sure of that. When she’d dressed she would go and wake her and they could have breakfast together, before she showed her around the villa. No one could have anticipated their return yesterday, meaning Savina and Aegeus would be thinking on their feet, filling in Kyra on what had happened in her absence. Kassandra’s presence would not be required.

Phoibe’s room, however, was empty. Her bedding was folded back to air, she’d put away her clothes, her drawing supplies were neatly stacked on the desk beneath the window. On the shelf above her bed stood Chara, flanked on either side by Barnabas’ wolf and boar. He should make her a bear next she thought, going back to her room and beginning to tidy the dishes from the previous night. She still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of other people cleaning and tidying for her, though she acknowledged the necessity in a household of this size.  Pottery rattling on the laden tray, she made her way downstairs. She could hear voices from Kyra’s office, but more importantly right now, Phoibe’s laughter from the direction of the kitchen.

“He’s the most beautiful dog I’ve ever seen,” she was on her knees beside Orion, rubbing his exposed belly as he grinned delightedly, his eyes rolling in ecstasy.

“Are you sure you’ve seen any other dogs, then?” Kassandra deposited the tray on the bench by the door.

“Rude!” Phoibe tutted. “Don’t listen to her Orion.”

“Oh she cracks on as though she doesn’t like him,” Cymone laughed, wiping her hands on a towel and making her way over to survey the tray. “But I’ve seen her sitting out there with him, sneaking him treats while the Archon’s not looking. What’s all this?”

“Kassandra had supper in bed,” Phoibe got to her feet and took a seat at the table behind a basket of vegetables.

“ _ Did _ she now?” Cymone arched an eyebrow, running a finger around the dregs of the honey. “I trust everything was to your satisfaction Misthios?” she smirked.

“Everything was delicious, thank you,” Kassandra helped herself to a bowl of steaming barley porridge and dropped in a handful of berries. “I thought you might have had a hand in it to be honest.”

“The less...suggestive components,” Cymone chuckled. “That must have been Savina’s doing. There’s more to her than meets the eye eh? To young Kittos’ delight, I’m sure. Did you sleep well? Eventually?”

“Very well,” Kassandra nodded, sitting down opposite Phoibe and watching in amusement as she began to slice carrots. “I told you she’d put you to work,” she mumbled around a mouthful of porridge. “Did  _ you _ sleep well?”

“Yes we did,” Phoibe popped a slice of carrot in her mouth. “And he hardly farted at all, you were exaggerating.”

“He wanted to make a good first impression,” Cymone laughed. “He’s allowed carrots by the way.”

“When I’ve finished breakfast I thought we could go and have a look around the villa and the grounds,” Kassandra was wondering whether to have a couple of peaches or a second bowl of porridge. She didn’t need to choose, she decided, she’d take the peaches with her.

“We were going to go and see the goats,” Phoibe looked up from her work. “Cymone was going to teach me how to milk them.”

“Well, we can do both,” Kassandra scraped back her chair and made her way over to the stove. “Missing goats already?” she laughed, picking up the ladle. She’d just scooped up a steaming spoonful when Kyra’s voice barked down the corridor.

“Misthios! As soon as you’ve finished your breakfast, your presence is required.”

Phoibe and Cymone raised their eyebrows in unison and exchanged a look.

“Normal service is resumed, Misthios,” Cymone laughed. “Here, take an apple with you,” she tossed one over the table to her. “You and me then, my little love. Goat milking and then I’ll go and introduce you to the staff eh? Come on, those carrots can wait.”

“See now,” Phoibe pursed her lips and shot a sympathetic look at Kassandra, as she put down her knife and skipped over to Cymone, wiping her hands on her tunic as she went. “Kyra didn’t sound like fun at all then.”

“When you get a little older you’ll learn that there are lots of different kinds of fun,” Cymone picked up a couple of empty jugs. “Here, take one of these,” she handed over the smaller of the two.

“Oh I know that,” Phoibe nodded. “Just, that didn’t sound like any of them.”

“Then there’s still lots to learn, so that’s good eh? Come on. Hope you’ve got warm hands.”

“And watch out for the billy!” Kassandra called over her shoulder as she loped out of the kitchen and towards the office, polishing the apple on her tunic before taking a huge bite. Reaching the door she gave a cursory knock before walking in.  “Good morning,” she mumbled wetly, closing the door behind her. “...all,” she finished limply seeing everyone’s dour expressions. “Gods you all look sombre,” she laughed. “Clearly the first day back at work!” she wagged a playful finger.

“Take a seat would you please Kassandra?” Kyra was rubbing slow circles at her temples as though she was already nursing a headache or trying to fend off the approach of one. The sound of Kassandra’s busy crunching as she strode across the office to a chair made her glance up. Her face looked drawn and a long way from the playful seductress of the previous evening, Kassandra thought sadly. “And finish that apple, please. We need your full attention.”

“And your hands.” Praxos grumbled.

“Oh gods! Are we doing this now?” Aegeus piped up. His face looked pale and waxy. “Archon? I wonder if I might be excused? I can’t do this again. I simply cannot Archon,” he sounded near tears. “The briefest glimpse and they haunt my nights.”

“Yes, by all means,” Kyra waved a distracted hand. “You had business in the agora, no? Now would be a good time to see to that.”

“Indeed!” he clutched his hands to his chest, nodding gratefully. “A thousand blessings upon you Archon. I just...I’m sorry...just, not again,” he whimpered and darted for the door.

“What in Hades was all that about?” Kassandra wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and followed his departure with bemusement.

“You’ll find out momentarily,” Kyra sighed. “And the damned apple! Please?” she recovered herself at the last moment. “If you would?”

Kassandra combined the final three bites into one big juicy mouthful, and without thinking launched the core across the room. It sailed between the heads of Praxos and Savina, accompanied by Kyra’s cry of “not out of the window! Damn it, Kassandra.”

Praxos followed its arc through the open balcony doors and over the balustrade with narrowed eyes. An instant later a disgruntled exclamation suggested that it had hit one of the guards.  “Well they know you’re home now, if they didn’t before,” he sighed, dropping into a chair by the wall. It creaked slightly in protest.

Kassandra chewed carefully, conscious of the three vaguely disapproving looks she was receiving. Swallowing at last she gave Kyra an apologetic smile. “Sorry love. Archon I mean. I wasn’t thinking.”

“We’re not on Kephallonia now, Kassandra,” Kyra pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes briefly.

“Evidently not,” she wiped her fingers on the skirt of her tunic and scoured across her teeth with her tongue. “Well? What’s got Aegeus so rattled that he’s voluntarily left your side on your first day back?” She leaned back in her chair and looked from one to the next. No one seemed keen to meet her eyes.

“There’s something you need to see,” Kyra said at last. She reclined in her chair, but looked far from relaxed. “If you would please, Savina?”

Apart from the briefest acknowledgement of Kassandra’s greeting when she entered, Savina had so far been silent. She had a bundle of papyri clasped to her breasts. Swallowing audibly she made her way over. As she approached, Kassandra could see that the bundle was composed of a sheaf of what seemed to be mainly papyrus, though here and there she could make out the edges of a few sheets of parchment. The whole was bound between a folded cover of thick papyrus, tied with a leather cord.

Savina looked pale, but by the time she reached Kassandra’s chair, a hot blush had painted her cheeks. “Before you open this, Misthios,” her voice sounded awkward and tight. “I should tell you that we have all seen these.”

“Apart from Aegeus,” Praxos rested his hands in his lap, his thick fingers laced tightly together. “He was off like a long dog after the first few.”

“First few what?” Kassandra was becoming impatient. “What’s the big mystery?”

“I’m very sorry, Misthios,” Savina placed the folder in her hands and retreated to her position beside Kyra’s desk, her head bowed.

Irritated by their evasiveness Kassandra tugged apart the fastening and opened the cover.

Whatever she’d expected to greet her, it hadn’t been a well drawn picture of an attractively appointed woman. She was naked and posed with her back to the artist. Kassandra gave it the briefest of glances, relieved that she wasn’t being confronted with something grimly horrific so soon after breakfast, but confused all the same.

“That’s very nice, but I don’t see what the..whoa!” she turned the first page and found herself looking at an infinitely more explicit and impressively detailed drawing in black ink. She might well have paid it more lingering attention, had she not been in Kyra’s office in the presence of Praxos and Savina.  “Well that’s very lovingly rendered I must say,” she looked up. She understood Savina’s embarrassment now, but not why she’d been summoned to look at pornography in such bizarre circumstances. “Personally I think that’s pretty good. Though I can see how it wouldn’t be to everyone’s taste,” she resumed turning the pages. “Perhaps it’s because I grew up with - Hey! That’s me!” Grinning broadly, she held up the next sheet for general approval.

“We didn’t ask you here to review the bloody things!” Praxos barked. 

“No?” Kassandra eyed the picture with interest. “I’m going to though. How could I not? It’s actually quite good. Look at the detail, they’ve got nearly all my scars there. Well all the ones on public display. My nose looks great. Though my tits aren’t that big, as you all know. Perhaps that’s...what do they call it? Artist's something? Who drew these?”

“Unknown artist’s license,” said Kyra wearily. “And Praxos is right. This isn’t funny Kassandra.”

“I’m not saying it is,” she protested. “Well it is...a bit. I’m just not sure why you’ve called me in here to look at this. It feels a bit weird doing it in front of an audience. _This_ audience anyway.”

“Look at the previous one again,” Kyra’s voice was flat.

Kassandra noticed Savina shuffling awkwardly and turning to stare out of the open doors, as she flipped the sheet back. On her first look she hadn’t noticed much above the waist. The artist had concentrated a good deal of their efforts below the navel, and she hadn’t wanted to spend too long scrutinizing it in front of the others for fear of giving them the wrong impression.  Now under instruction to do so, she held it a little closer and allowed her eyes to travel up along the torso to the nicely rendered breasts. The artist had captured very well the way they lay against the rib cage of a reclining woman. It was one of her favourite views of a lover. She fought back a smile.  Whoever had drawn it was evidently talented, once you got past the unexpectedly explicit nature of the subject. She continued up to the face and felt the skin crawl at the back of her neck as she registered the distinctive sweep of the eyebrows, the shape of the eyes, the recognisable hairstyle.

“Oh gods, it’s you, love! I mean Archon,” she corrected, thinking how ridiculous such formality was, considering what she currently held in her hand. “I didn’t notice because I didn’t want to look for too long, and that doesn’t look like your... I mean I wasn’t paying close attention, it’s awkward looking at this sort of thing with an audience.” She could hear Praxos’ seismic rumbling from across the room and swallowed thickly.  “Who’s that first one then?” she cleared her throat and flipped back to look more closely, studying the hair. “Oh that’s you too! That one’s not quite as good. No, I don’t mean  _ good! _ ” she could see Praxos leaning forward in his chair now, glowering at her from beneath beetling brows. “It’s just, I mean, it’s a...less sophisticated pose,” she settled, sounding prim to herself.

“Oh don’t worry,” Kyra was sipping a cup of water. “They get more  _ sophisticated _ .”

Kassandra carried on, paying much closer attention now. There were a few more solo pieces, including one of her, but she managed to refrain from commentary. Then the pictures of the two of them began.  “His reach exceeded his grasp a bit there,” she turned one through ninety degrees to examine it. “Oh, _ that  _ is a really good one of you though,” she looked up, smiling without thinking. “This must be a later one because look how he’s caught -”

“This is not fucking funny!” Praxos leapt to his feet. “Sorry,” he glanced over at Savina, she waved a dismissive hand, his language the least of her concerns.

“Well, not funny  _ hilarious _ ,” she sighed. “But honestly Praxos, the best thing you can do is laugh at this sort of stuff. It’s like I told you that night at the tavern. The Silver Islands have a gorgeous young Archon, and she’s taken a notorious woman as her lover. Of course people are going to think about our bedroom activities.”

“We should have thrown that little shit in jail like I- sorry Savina,” Praxos took a deep breath and strode to the open doors to collect himself.

“You should have thrown  _ who  _ in jail?” Kyra put down her cup with studied precision.  Exchanging a guilty look Kassandra and Praxos related the story of their encounter with the street artist.  “And when were you planning on telling me about this?” she frowned at them.

“We’re telling you now,” Praxos muttered sheepishly.

“Because you had to!” she snapped. “Because he’s flooded the damned market with this filth!”

“Oh hardly love, Archon,” Kassandra held up the bundle. “Clio has a bigger collection. Though not of us obviously. Actually, could we send her one of these?” she asked thoughtfully. “Let me see if there’s a really good one of both of us.”

“You are just looking at the edited highlights!” Kyra reached beside her chair and produced a second folder, a little thicker than the one Kassandra held. “We didn't want to be here all day,” she dropped it on the desk.

“Oh!” Kassandra said quietly. “Well,” she continued after an awkward pause. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think this is the same artist. The wall fellow, he wasn’t as good. Well he wasn’t good at all, was he Praxos?”

“I don’t recall,” he grumbled sulkily.

“And no, Kassandra,” Kyra’s voice was tight. “It is no consolation to learn that there is more than one person producing this...filth!”

“That’s all it is though,” Kassandra soothed, picking up where she’d left off. “It’s just dirty pictures, they’re harmless if you don’t respond to them. Oh damn, that’s a good one of me. Look at my shoulders there. Do you want to keep this one?” she winked. “For nights when I’m away?”

“Will you treat this seriously!?” Praxos bellowed.

“What exactly do you want me to do Praxos?” she snapped back. “I’ve been dragged away from my breakfast to come in here, and had a pile of pictures of me and Kyra fucking, sorry Savina, dumped on my lap and now you’re angry at  _ me  _ about it!”

“It undermines the dignity of the Archon and everything she stands for!” he slammed a meaty fist into his other palm.

“There’s another problem,” Kyra held up her hand to quieten him. “One rather more significant than the embarrassment and the damage to my dignity. Keep going Kassandra. Please. Without commentary if you can manage that?”

Kassandra turned another couple of pages, keeping her opinions to herself as requested. Coming to a sheet of fine, smooth parchment covered with a carefully rendered scene, highlighted here and there in rich pigment, she stopped, her mouth falling open.

“Oh...fuck…”

“I see you’ve reached it,” Kyra pursed her lips.

It depicted three women. Despite their nakedness, two were very evidently Kyra and Kassandra. But it was the third figure entwined with them that caught and held her eye, and made her understand why they were gathered here in Kyra’s office, the sun blazing through the open windows while the bustling life of the villa continued in the background and they looked at dirty pictures.

The third woman was almost naked, apart from a sash about her hips, tied in an elegant and distinctive manner. Above the head of the Kassandra figure was a sentence written in tiny, neat characters, positioned so that it looked as though she were speaking the words.

“Keep your belt on lovely Nike, so that I may tell you apart from your sister.”

Kassandra sat silently for a full minute, looking despondently at the picture and chewing her lip.  “Shit,” she said eventually, not looking up.

“Precisely,” Kyra sighed.

Kassandra swallowed, licked her lips and looked up, managing an optimistic smile. “I see why you’re all upset now. But this is just one picture. We can dismiss it as a joke. They can’t be the first, or the only person who’s peered at Nike in the lamplight and thought, gods that hetaera looks like the lovely Archon if you squint. How many people could have seen this?” she waved the parchment dismissively.  Without a word Kyra bent to retrieve a third folder from beneath her desk and handed it to Savina who brought it across to Kassandra, placing it in her hands without meeting her eyes.  Even before she opened it, she knew what it must contain, but she looked anyway, sitting quietly, the only noise the faint rustle as she turned sheet after sheet depicting her luridly entwined with the two sisters.

“Right,” she said finally, closing the folder and neatly retying it. “Now I see why everyone is so agitated.”

“Oh! Do you, at last?” Praxos’ eyebrows were up about where his hairline must have been at one time. “Better late than never.”

“Look Praxos,” Kassandra got to her feet, dropping the folders onto Kyra’s desk. “I understand that this has been embarrassing for everyone, and probably unnerving, what with Kyra being away. But I don’t understand why you’re being so shirty with me?  _ I’m _ not drawing the bloody things!”

“I’m being shirty,” he advanced, directing a finger at her, “because if you’d listened to me, the little bastard we caught behind Mikis’ would have been in jail and whoever in Hades  _ this _ one is, might have thought better of it!”

“That or you’d now be swamped with pictures of the guards looking ridiculous while kicking down doors, and people would be muttering about Kyra being a tyrant, rather than.. Rather than this,” she stopped herself. “Which is essentially harmless.”

“Harmless!” he threw up his hands. “HARMLESS!!”

“That will do now, both of you!” Kyra slapped a hand down on the desk. “Keep your voice down Praxos, please, we don’t need the staff hearing this.”

“Like the staff haven’t already seen them?” he was struggling to bring his temper under control.

“Where have they seen them?” Kassandra glanced over to Kyra. She looked angry, but more than that she looked mortified, she realised. “Hey?” she said soothingly, making her way round to her chair. “Sweetheart?”

“Archon!” Praxos muttered.

“Shut up for five minutes would you, man,” Kassandra sighed. “Everyone is upset enough as it is.” She crouched down beside Kyra’s chair and reached out for her hands. “Look at me, love, please? Just for a minute you don’t have to be the Archon, all right?”  She was looking down at her lap, biting her lip hard. Kassandra reached out and cradled her cheek gently. “I’m sorry about all this love,” she stroked the crest of her cheekbone with her thumb. “But we’ll sort it out. We’ll make it right, I promise you.  _ We _ can worry about  _ this _ ,” she nodded at the folders. “You keep worrying about the good of the people, like you always do,” she caught Kyra’s hands in hers and felt them trembling a little.

“How can I, Kassandra?” she said quietly, her voice weak. “I’ve no idea who has seen these? Which of them they’ve seen? What they’re thinking? How can I go about my usual business when this is floating around?” she glanced up, her eyes filling with tears. “How am I going to walk down the street knowing that any of them may have seen this filth? How can I do it, Kassandra?”

She drew Kyra’s hands up to her lips, pressing kisses to her knuckles. “By my side, my love,” she whispered. “I will be with you for every step, I promise. Do it by the side of the woman who loves you? You are the fiercest, bravest woman I have ever met. I know that you can do this.”

For once Kyra seemed to forget that they were in her office, that she was wearing her laurels, that Savina and Praxos were mere feet away. She rested her forehead against Kassandra’s and closed her eyes, freeing a few hot tears.

“It’s awful right now, love, but we’re going to make it better,” Kassandra raised her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Now. A question? Where are you getting all these from?” she stood up and looked from Praxos’ thundery face to Savina’s mournful expression.

“Nike mainly,” Praxos said gloomily, folding his arms. “A lot are left in the tavern obviously, there’s a big audience there. A big, drunk audience,” he muttered. “She’s been gathering them up as soon as she spots them, no one knows who’s distributing them. They’re left on stalls in the agora. The one you looked at, of you and Nike? Pinned to a bench in the temple, can you believe it?”

“And is Nike all right?” Kassandra chewed her lip thoughtfully, eyeing the three folders.

“I think so,” he shrugged. “I mean she seemed so. I didn’t probe. It’s embarrassing.”

“ _ Is _ it Praxos?” Kyra looked up. “Is it _ really?!  _ You aren’t featured in any of these, so how would you know?”

His face went pale and he sat down suddenly. Fortunately he had been standing close to a chair and more or less landed on it.

“So? What?” Kassandra picked up the topmost folder and began to leaf through it, looking thoughtful. “Nike has been collecting them and bringing them over here herself when she’s gathered a few? She’s not sending them via anyone?”

“No, we’ve kept it to as few people as possible,” he sighed. “Since the ones started with her in them, she’s stopped coming. We thought that was best. I’ve met her quietly at the tavern once or twice, picked them up.”

Kassandra shook her head and turned to lean back against the desk, ankles crossed, looking down at Kyra.“Would it truly be so bad if people found out that Nike was your sister?” she asked quietly. “Really? In the grand scheme of things? People _ like _ Nike. She’s held in respect.”

“For a whore yes!” Praxos intervened. “But it’s like I told Kyra long ago, it’s one thing them thinking she’s a decent, honorable person for a whore and…”

“Will you _ stop  _ calling my sister a whore!” Kyra seemed on the verge of tears.

“See?” he held out a hand. “It’s upsetting isn’t it? And that’s just me saying it, in here, among friends. Imagine hearing it muttered as you walk through the streets about official business.”

“I think it’s upsetting precisely because you  _ are _ her friend,” Kassandra turned to frown at him. “Stop saying it, Praxos. You make it sound like it’s something vile.”

“I’m not accusing Nike of doing anything wrong,” he sighed. “She’s a dear friend, I wish she didn’t have to skulk about the place like a thief, but this is what people will say, and it’s far far worse than that. Don’t you realise?” He waited till Kassandra had turned to perch with one leg on the desk, so she could see him.  “Think about it,” there was a hint of pleading in his voice. “If people decide that Nike  _ is  _ Kyra’s sister,” he stage whispered. “Then they start asking  _ how _ ? They’ll start speculating about who her father is. Who _ their _ father is.” 

Kyra rested her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands with a groan.

“That’s the grit at the heart of this horrible pearl,” he looked plaintive. “The pictures are terrible. Vulgar, disgusting nonsense, but we could get over it. Nike being a...hetaera. Awkward, embarrassing for someone in Kyra’s position, but perhaps we could weather it. The truth about their father? Never.”  The room fell silent. Off in the distance a dog barked. A guard sneezed in the courtyard.

“Misthios?” Savina’s voice was just above a whisper, hoarse and hesitant. “What should we do?”

Kassandra sighed and rubbed her face wearily. “I don’t know Savina. It’s difficult to come in after the fact and solve a problem you had no hand in.”

“Oh really?” Praxos looked up. “Isn’t that the very thing you claim to do for a living? Wasn’t that what you were doing when you came swaggering into our hideout all those years ago?”

“Don’t start again, please,” Kyra flopped back in her chair. “We’re all upset, most of us are embarrassed, and shouting at each other will solve none of it. No suggestions Kassandra?” she turned to her. “Not a one?”

“Right now, all I can think is that none of this needed to happen in the first place,” she rubbed her eyes, wondering at how the day had gone downhill so dramatically. An hour or so earlier she had been sitting happily in the kitchen with Phoibe, shoveling down creamy porridge and looking forward to watching her learn how to milk a goat.

“Oh really, do tell?” Praxos muttered dryly, he was miserably plucking a bald patch into his thigh.

“It’s like Selene always says,” Kassandra began, “if in doubt, brazen it out.”

“What in Hades are you talking about?” he grumbled.

“If I’d been here at the time, I would have said that Nike should be walking in through the front door like anyone else,” she explained. “Any ropy merchant on the islands can march right in, they just need to hand over their weapons and identify themselves to the guards. But Nike is the one person who has to creep in at odd hours, with her face cloaked. It draws attention.”

“And she looks like Kyra, _that_ draws attention too,” he protested. “She’s not coming here first thing in the morning to discuss business rates. She’s coming in the evenings to sit and chat with Kyra, to share a drink. The fish sellers aren’t doing that.”

“You know Praxos, people have friends that they aren’t related to, and that they aren’t having sex with. Clio made friends with a woman back on Kephallonia because they both chose the same cloth at the dressmakers. You should have made a point of noticing how alike you looked. “How astonishing! This woman looks so much like me we could almost be sisters, no? What’s your name? Sit and talk with me for a while.” Play up the fact that you look alike, don’t pretend that you don’t, that people are imagining it. People often become friends because of what they have in common. Even if it just starts out as a fondness for green.”

The silence that followed was thoughtful.  “Do you think,” Praxos began hesitantly. “Could we perhaps -”

“Not now,” Kassandra gave a humourless snort. “You’ve got to do it from the word go. “Hey, she looks just like you!” “ Praise Aphrodite, so she does!” Do it now and people will just roll their eyes and say “well she would say that wouldn’t she?”. We’ve missed the boat for doing that.”

“So, _ now _ ?” Kyra asked quietly. She found that she very much wanted to shoot an “I told you so” look at Praxos, though she knew it would solve nothing.

“We can’t send the guards out searching for him, right?” Savina took a deep breath and turned to look at Kassandra.

“Correct,” she nodded. “They need to keep their eyes and ears open, but we can’t have them turning the place over.”

“So we’re supposed to just let whoever this is get away with it?” Praxos was outraged.

“We let them carry on till they run out of ink, perhaps?” Kyra suggested with impressive dryness.

Kassandra gave her a wink and a comforting smile.  “No, of course not. But we can’t send the guards around the city kicking in doors searching for miscreants with ink stained fingers to drag off to jail. In fact you can’t do anything violent while we’re looking for whoever’s behind this,” she saw Praxos opening his mouth to object. “I don’t mean from a self defense perspective. But you can’t look oppressive, in case people  _ do _ start to speculate about your mysterious sire. We don’t want them thinking, like father, like daughter.”

“Aye,” he sighed. “So what  _ do _ we do, look for them on the sly?”

“I’ll look for them on the sly,” Kassandra braced her hands on her knees. “The guards should confiscate any pictures they find, ask people if they saw who left them, they’d do that anyway if someone were leaving insulting messages around. Just tell them not to react to the subject matter. Apart from that, let's try and make it look like business as usual.”

She leaned over and rested a hand on the pile of folders, pressing it down more compactly. “It seems like a lot I know, but it’s not really. Not for a city the size of Mykonos. Sure, there may be more out there. I’ve no doubt that some people may have stumbled across some and kept them for...personal use,” she cleared her throat. “But this here. It’s about the same size as Clio’s personal collection honestly, maybe a bit bigger, but not much. I grant that it’s got more impact because of who the subjects are, but not everyone will have seen one of these, not by a long, long way,” she gave Kyra a reassuring smile.

“It’s fortunate that Nike lives at Mikis’ I suppose?” Savina frowned at the folders. “She’s been able to gather many up before they’ve...gone into circulation,” she suggested, blushing.

“Exactly,” Kassandra nodded, sliding her hand across the desk till her fingers brushed Kyra’s. “You carry on doing what you always do, my love. Running the Islands as well as you can, for everyone’s benefit. Everyone else will keep their ears to the ground and their eyes open.”

“I’ll have a talk with the guards when we’ve finished up here,” Praxos got to his feet and strode out onto the balcony to take some deep breaths and gaze over the courtyards.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this, Archon,” Savina mustered a smile. “And your good work will continue to speak for itself.”

“And, in fairness it’s not like they’ve drawn that much we haven’t done really,” Kassandra winked and heard Praxos’ scandalized gasp from the balcony.

“Kassandra!” Kyra gave a weary sigh and shook her head.

“Oh! No! Not the whole Nike bit obviously,” she back-pedaled quickly. “But think about it. It’s embarrassing and reputations are a bit dented for a while, but no one has actually been hurt.”

“I suppose so,” Kyra let her head loll back a little and watched a fly circling above them, bumping into the ceiling now and again. “That’s a mercy, in a…”

The sound of running footsteps out in the hallway interrupted her thoughts. Moments later the door flew open and Aegeus came racing in, hands flapping.

“Archon! Oh Archon, terrible news!”

  
  



	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that fish will be off the menu for the foreseeable future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a trigger warning or anything, but this was written weeks and weeks ago before we were even aware that we were going to be in the midst of a public health crisis, so apologies for the poor timing.

Once they’d settled Aegeus on one of the couches, poured a little wine into him and Savina had patted his hands sympathetically for a while, he was able to recount his news.  At least nine people in the city had been taken ill after eating fish caught from a nearby reef. At first they’d exhibited the general symptoms of having eaten something that had seen better days. But they were not improving and a couple were said to be packing for a ferry trip.

“Well that’s bad news for them,” Kassandra was leaning against the wall, one arm raised, observing him dispassionately. “They have my sympathies, but we live on an island surrounded by rich fishing, there’s no need to be eating what the cat’s turned its nose up at.”

“They swear they had not Misthios, that the fish was freshly caught, that it smelt and tasted sound,” Aegeus’ voice was trembling as much as his hands, the wine slopping dangerously in his cup. “There is whispering and muttering Archon,” he gazed up at her, wide eyed. “The people speak of the fish being poisoned.”

Kyra reared back a little, her expression startled. “And who do they accuse of that? With what motive?”

“Oh Archon,” he took a deep draft and held out his cup for Savina to refill. “That’s the terrible part of it. First those scandalous scrawls and now this. A storm is brewing Archon, a tempest approaches, glowering clouds loom on the horizon, ruination and despair!”

“Pull yourself together for fucks’ sake Aegeus,” Kassandra sighed. “A handful of people are sick, which is unfortunate of course,” she added quickly. “But it happens, it’s hardly an impending catastrophe.” Kyra was already upset by the morning’s revelations, she did not need Aegeus’ panicky overreactions adding to her distress.

“Who are they blaming, man?” Praxos shook his shoulder. “Focus.”

Aegeus took another deep pull at his cup and swallowed noisily. “They blame Poseidon, Archon. They whisper that he is angry with the Silver Islands and wreaking his revenge.”

“And what are we supposed to have done to anger the King of the Clams now?!” Kassandra threw up her hands in frustration. “That he would unleash his terrible vengeance by giving a handful of people food poisoning!”

Aegeus looked at her in shock and mumbled a quiet prayer, lowering his eyes to the trembling wine in his cup.

“A little respect please, Kassandra,” Kyra frowned. “Not everyone is comfortable with your particular brand of irreverence. And it would be dangerous to speak like that in the city, remember.”

“She has a point though,” Praxos agreed. “I wouldn’t have put it so...crudely, but it’s scarcely a tidal wave, Aegeus.”

“Not yet!” he whined. “But the speculation and gossip may become one. The people remember the sinking of the trade vessel some months back. Now the fish. There are only a dozen or so people now. But, a plague begins with one person. Today a handful languish in their beds, tomorrow half the city might be brought to its knees! Corpses piled high in the streets, buildings overrun with filthy rats, the weeping of widows and the crying of -”

“That’s enough Aegeus!” Kyra snapped. “Take another drink and calm yourself. Did Leto attend you at the agora?”

“Of course,” he sniffed. “She is ever by my side.”

“Good. Praxos, find her please? Aegeus go sit in the kitchen and calm yourself for a little while, then head home. I will ask Leto to accompany you. You have clearly had a shock this morning. Go home, rest, have something to eat -”

“Not the fish,” Kassandra smirked and received a look from Kyra that was as good as a slap.

“Have an early night and return tomorrow, refreshed and calmer,” Kyra continued. “Do not get involved in hysterical speculation.”

As Savina helped him to the door, Praxos strode back in with one of the guards at his shoulder.  Leto was strong and stoic and had been one of the few women rebels to be involved firsthand in the fighting. During one skirmish she’d had her face held against a brazier by one of Podarkes’ lackeys and the subsequent injuries had left her, not only with impressive scarring, but deaf in one ear. She’d treated the misfortune with good grace and once Kyra had established the guard, she volunteered as Aegeus’ personal protector on the grounds that she didn’t have to listen to his wittering so long as she kept him on the deaf side. For his part Aegeus hadn’t worked this out yet and assumed she was simply a good listener, of a laconic bent.  From Kyra’s point of view, she was strong, smart and dependable, treated Aegeus like a talkative toddler who needed protection from himself as much as anything, and she could be relied upon not to indulge in fanciful speculation. It was this latter quality that she required from her today. 

Leto confirmed the essential details of Aegeus’ story. Eight or nine individuals had fallen ill, their symptoms attributed to eating fish from one particular catch, and there was muttering. “It sounds nasty, Archon. Not just your usual shitting and puking by all accounts. They’ve become weak, unable to walk. The worst have lost the ability to swallow or speak, poor bastards. Thirsty but can’t drink, suffering but can’t explain how.”

“Has a healer been summoned?” Kyra was pacing.

“Rhea has visited them, but there’s little she can do except give them drops of poppy to ease their pain.”

“And do the people mutter of Poseidon’s hand in this?” Praxos seemed calm but was tapping an agitated foot against the leg of his chair.

Leto looked awkward suddenly. She’d removed her helmet when she entered and now was fiddling with the stiff horsehair of the crest.

“Out with it woman,” he grumbled.

Kyra shot a reproving glance in his direction and stopped pacing, standing to face Leto and tilting her head encouragingly. “We have always been able to be honest with each other Leto, no? Even when we haven’t seen eye to eye, we have been able to be frank. And I am not going to rail against you for the views of the people. Savina, a cup of wine for Leto, please? Take a seat my friend, tell us what is really happening. You’ll be doing me no favours by hiding ugly truths.”

Leto gave a resigned sigh and sat on a bench by the terrace doors, placing her helmet by her side. She didn’t give the impression of someone who had entertaining news to impart. As Savina approached with a cup of lightly watered wine she leapt to her feet, dipping her a polite half bow as she accepted it.  Even under the current circumstances it was enough to draw a faint blush from Savina. Before her injuries Leto had been considered an attractive woman. Despite, or perhaps because of them, and even with the loss of an ear, there were many on the island who still considered her handsome. The disfigurement gave her a roguish, dangerous look, that was totally undercut by her disarming smile. The dramatic tale of how she’d acquired her scars in the service of the rebellion only served to make her seem even more dashing. To the best of anyone’s knowledge she’d not made a point of capitalizing on her image, something that Kassandra had previously found puzzling but honorable.

Taking her wine and sitting back down Leto took a quick sip and sighed, rubbing her knee absently. “There’s muttering Archon,” she said at last. 

“We know that!” Praxos’ patience had worn to a sliver over the morning, but he saw Kyra raising her hand in warning and bit his tongue.

“About what, Leto?” Kassandra went to sit beside her. “Better that we hear it first from you, my friend, than have it barked at us in the street with no warning eh?”

“Aegeus makes it sound as though a fresh rebellion is brewing?” Kyra asked tentatively.

Leto gave a snort, shaking her head. Taking a deep pull from her cup she raised her head and began. “You know what Aegeus is like. He overreacts, especially when people behave unpredictably. I don’t blame him, don’t get me wrong, I know he had a terrible time under Podarkes. He’s like a whipped dog in that respect. There is muttering, sure enough. But so far it’s just the usual suspects, drunks and those who feel your taxes dip too heavily into their pocket. For the latter, it’s safe enough to ignore them, I think. Only their rich cronies listen to them with any sympathy. And for the former? Well it’s nothing that a cuff round the ear won’t solve, so far at least.”

“Perhaps refrain from cuffing anyone round the ear Leto. Tell the others, nothing rougher than the edge of your tongue,” Kyra glanced at Kassandra for confirmation.

“If you’re certain Archon,” Leto drained her wine, shaking her head and smiling politely when Savina offered to refill it. “Because some of them could do with a clout to be frank with you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Kassandra smiled, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “But the Archon is right. Under the current circumstances let’s restrict ourselves to firm warnings, unless anyone’s safety is at risk, obviously.”

“Very well Misthios,” she nodded. “The Archon knows best after all.”

“What exactly are they muttering about, Leto?” Kyra went back to sit at her desk.  Her face was perfectly composed, but Kassandra suspected that she had her fingers tightly steepled together to prevent them from trembling. She was perhaps wise to do so, she thought, watching the blush that crept up Leto’s jaw.

“I take it that you’re at least aware of the pictures that are circulating, even if you haven’t seen them yourself?” she suggested quietly. Leto shifted a little in her seat and avoided Kassandra’s eye. “I’m not accusing you of poring over them,” she patted her shoulder. “But if you’ve been gathering them up, you’d be bound to see one or two, or to have heard about them at least.”

“All the guards have heard about them, Hippolytus told us to be on the lookout. I don’t know how many have seen them though. I’ve confiscated a couple at the agora,” she picked at a non-existent hangnail to avoid looking at anyone. “I looked as briefly as possible, merely to confirm you understand, then I handed them in. As for how many citizens have seen them? Who knows? I will say that they seem to appear very early in the morning. The two I found while stall holders were just setting up.”

“So how are you not spotting who’s doing it?” Praxos sounded frustrated and accusatory and Leto bristled.

“It’s not because we aren’t looking, I can tell you that! I’ve camped out by the docks trying to catch someone, but it’s a big city, Praxos. There’s no telling that they’re even being left by the person who’s making them. They could be left somewhere else, someone picks it up, carries it into the city, shows it to someone else, they pass it on, it gets left on a stall. Who knows? It can’t be a stranger to the Islands, I know that much, we’d have spotted them.”

“Is  _ this  _ what the muttering is about, really?” Kassandra leaned back, crossing one leg on the other. “Be honest. We spent the morning looking at the bloody things, we’re shockproof now.”

“Partly,” Leto gave a reluctant sigh. “It’s a few things Archon, truly. Any one of them alone, would be nothing, just bad luck. But people are beginning to sew them together, and it’s in danger of making an ugly garment. They’re thinking back to when you arrived here Misthios and brought the news of the wrecked merchant vessel.” A low groan passed around her audience. “Vessels sink all the time,” Leto continued. “ _ I  _ know that,  _ they  _ know that. There’s not an island in the Aegean that doesn’t bear testament to the fact.”

“But?” Praxos rumbled.

“But they’re saying the bad luck started then. The wreck, the silo fires -”

“Oh come on!” Kassandra interrupted. “That was before I even got here! I offered to help fix the bloody things at that meeting when -”

“I know, I know,” Leto defended. “I’m just telling you what people are saying. They’ve either forgotten the order of things, or don’t want to remember because it suits their purpose. The same with that poor lad at the orphanage. He was already there when you arrived, no? But they’re weaving that into it as well somehow. Then...well…” she cleared her throat. 

“Out with it,” Praxos got to his feet and lumbered over to the table to pour himself a cup of wine.

“Well, there’s your trip to Kephallonia, Archon,” Leto gave Kyra an apologetic look. “Some people, particularly some of the older folks, they’re not happy about it. They’re saying you abandoned your duties to follow your...to follow…” she licked her lips nervously. When Savina quietly offered a second cup of wine she accepted it this time.  “There’s vulgar talk,” she said after taking a mouthful. “The gist being that you trailed off after your lover when you should have been at home, attending to business. A couple of stupid little things happened while you were away. First those girls, then there was a nasty hunting accident. You remember, Praxos? Fellow came staggering back from hunting boar, with his guts gathered in his arms. Upsetting, but it happens. A man crushed at the quarry. Not the first this year, won’t be the last. But now of course there are people saying that Artemis is angry.”

“Her as well eh?” Kassandra sighed. “Apollo too I imagine, get the whole family involved.”

“Kassandra, would you not, please?” Kyra sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and sounding weary.

“With respect, Misthios,” Leto had already drained her cup. “I would suggest that you don’t voice that opinion in the agora, for the Archon’s sake.”

“No, no, of course no,” Kassandra was already regretting her outburst. She should be helping to shoulder Kyra’s burden here, not add to it. “I’m sorry,” she addressed her apology to the whole room, after all she had no idea how devout Leto was when it came down to it. “The whole thing is just frustrating. I was halfway across the Aegean when that poor lad’s parents died, and there are accidents at quarries all the time.”

“Absolutely,” Leto nodded. “And honestly, most people know that. There are always people grumbling Archon, you know that. There are many on Delos who just aren’t happy with a woman in your position. And I’m sorry to say this. You know that I have no issue with it, Archon. You’ve known the way my tastes run since our days in the rebellion, but…”

Kyra waved a disheartened hand, barely looking up. “Some are unhappy that I’m bedding a woman?” she surprised her audience with her bluntness. “They’d have been suspicious of any man I’d taken as a lover, suspecting that he was trying to sleep his way into the laurels. Is there any particular reason that Kassandra is the target of their opprobrium? Or would  _ any  _ woman sharing my bed be viewed with the same mistrust?”

“As likely as not,” Leto said apologetically. “But, to be frank, Misthios Kassandra does come with a significant amount of baggage. Some of it is just scurrilous slander, but,” she gave Kassandra a sympathetic grimace, “there are some judgmental hypocrites. On both islands. But Delos especially. The Priests in particular are a resentful bunch, they’re hand in hand with your wealthy critics Archon. It’s difficult to know which is the tail and which is the dog there. Thankfully there’s no love lost between them and the Priestesses, so we have  _ them  _ on side, which is valuable. When push comes to shove, the people will still listen to the Priestesses. But this latest problem? The damned fish? It’s just one more drop in the bucket, Archon.”

“Not the first time such a thing has happened though,” Praxos said thoughtfully, stroking his beard. “There was a similar thing...oh, you won’t remember Kyra, you were with the Daughters of Artemis at the time. They said the reef grew like blood and the fish became poisonous. The older folk should remember that.”

“They probably blamed it on Poseidon’s indigestion back then as well,” Kassandra had plucked a small cluster of grapes from the fruit bowl and was standing on the balcony, chewing irritably and spitting out the occasional seed.

“No doubt,” he sighed, whether at public gullibility or Kassandra’s irreverence. “But the point is, it passed. A handful of people died if I recall correctly, but within a month or so the whole thing was over, the sea was clear again.”

“That must have been what that young chap Simmias was trying to tell them,” Leto exclaimed. “The fisherman, reddish hair, took over from his father? He was saying he’d heard his old man talking of a red growth that tainted the fish. If I heard correctly, and in all honesty I may not have,” she shrugged and tapped the gristly nub of her ruined ear. “ Everyone was arguing and talking over the lad, but I’m pretty sure he said he was going to sail out there and check.”

“Simmias?” Kyra frowned, working to place him. “Tall, slender, hairy chest? Has the boat with the dolphin painted on the bow?”

“That’s the one,” Leto grinned. “Nice lad. Intelligent. Kind to the kids,” she picked up her helmet and got to her feet, giving the empty wine cup to Savina with a smile of thanks. “Would you like me to go to the docks and bring him back here? It might be useful to see what he’s found out?”

Kyra seemed about to agree, but stopped at the last moment. “No, actually Leto, don’t. I’d like you to see Aegeus safely home, please. I don’t want him wandering into an argument and opening his mouth unwisely. I would like to speak to Simmias, but,” she got to her feet and drew back her shoulders, raising her chin as she spoke. “I will go to the docks tomorrow. I will speak to Simmias and the other fishermen, look at any remaining catch. Then I would like to visit those who are ill, and speak to Rhea. We must see what can be done, firstly to ease their suffering, and then to ensure the welfare of their dependents.”

Kassandra tossed the empty grape stalk over the balustrade and strode back in, a proud smile on her face.  “Are you sure love- Archon?” she stopped a half a step away, close enough to reach out and take her hand, though she resisted, mindful of Leto’s presence.

“Absolutely,” Kyra squared her jaw. “As you said Kassandra, we must continue with business as usual. Praxos, you will take the trip to Delos with the wine tomorrow.”

“No, I don’t think -” he began.

“It wasn’t a question. Or a suggestion, Praxos, it was an instruction,” she sounded resolute. “I think it would be profitable for you to discuss matters with Korax. You and she were close during the rebellion, no? You’ve kept in touch. It might be useful for us to have eyes upon Delos.”

“Of course, but -”

“Kassandra will accompany me. We will face our audience with our heads high. And you Praxos, will put your ear to the ground on Delos.”

Kyra seemed to have recovered her composure, though Kassandra knew her intimately enough to recognise the effort it was costing her. As discussions continued though she was impressed to see her relaxing back into her role and by the time Savina was filling her in on dock revenues she almost seemed back to normal.  The topic of Phoibe had arisen. Aegeus would fuss about the funding for her tutor Savina suggested, wanting to know where it was coming from and how he should record it.

Kassandra broke into the conversation from her position on the bench. The lowering sun was warming her feet and the pear she was eating was doing little to satisfy the gnawing in her belly. She’d eaten nothing since that porridge at breakfast and craved something more substantial than fruit. She also wanted to see Phoibe. The whole day had been consumed by this ridiculous business and she’d promised her that she would show her around the place. Here she was letting the girl down again, she thought guiltily.

“He needn’t trouble himself,” only the stalk was left of her pear now, she flicked it over the balustrade and got to her feet, wiping her fingers on her thighs. “I’ll pay for Phoibe’s tutor. Her financial requirements have been my responsibility since she came to live with me, they’ll continue to be,” she turned to look at Savina. “I suppose this is Aegeus’ job is it, to set up some sort of account for Phoibe, that I’ll settle?”

“That would fall under his remit Misthios, yes,” she nodded. “But I can certainly arrange that with him on your behalf, if you’d prefer?”

“I would yes,” she nodded. What Leto had mentioned about him earlier had been intriguing, but the man was still effortlessly irritating. If Savina could intercede, so much the better.

“Kassandra?” Kyra’s voice attracted her. “That won’t be necessary. Phoibe is a member of our household now. Her needs will be met by household expenses, I took that into account as soon as we decided to invite her to live here.”

“It absolutely  _ is  _ necessary,” Kassandra was firm. “I’ve raised Phoibe since she was barely past my knee, I may have fallen short of providing many things she needed,” she seemed to be speaking to herself. “But I’ve at least made sure she was fed, and clothed, had access to healers.”

“I know, but, I thought we would be raising her together now?” Kyra’s words were dispassionate and professional enough, but there was a wounded tone to her voice that none of them missed, especially Kassandra.

“We will, we are, of course,” she made her way over to the desk, biting back the urge to take her hands, settling instead for perching on the corner as she continued. “But, think about what’s going on right now. People are already grumbling. About my presence as much as anything it seems. Imagine if they find out that I’ve brought my...well,” she chewed her lip for a moment. “My little sister in a way. And that the Archon is feeding and clothing her. Providing her with a tutor.”

“She has a point Kyra,” Praxos said carefully. “While they’re already agitated, better not to give them anything else to grasp onto.”

“I won’t have Phoibe made into a rod to beat you with, Kyra,” Kassandra lowered her voice and leaned forward, allowing the tips of her fingers to brush lightly against Kyra’s upper arm. “I love you...both of you...far too much to allow that.” She turned slightly, disarranging some papers on the table as she shifted position.  “In fact I wish there were some way she didn’t have to know about any of this. But it’s like trying to pick Argus’ pocket with her sometimes,” she rubbed her eyes wearily. “Oh gods, she’s going to want to come to the docks with us in the morning when she hears. I said I’d spend time with her today and didn’t.”

“She should come to Delos with me,” Praxos announced to general astonishment.

“To see a murderous ex-rebel?” Kassandra’s outrage was obvious. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Calm yourself!” he held up a massive hand. “I’d sooner gnaw off my own arm than put a child in danger, surely you know that by now? Korax loves children.”

“But she can’t eat a whole one, right?” Kassandra scowled. “She sent a man the head of his brother.”

“Because he betrayed and stole from her. You think I’d sit and break bread with a child killer! She has grandchildren, Kassandra. She’s a business woman who cultivates a ruthless reputation because it’s to her advantage,” he defended. “Not all women have the physical attributes required to protect themselves,” he gave her a meaningful look. “Some have to design an image to help do that.”

“He’s right Kassandra,” Kyra nodded. “She is fond of children. A substantial portion of the orphanage funding comes from Korax’s business, though that isn’t common knowledge. Phoibe will be almost as safe with her as she would be with you. And Korax will certainly be a useful friend for her to make.”

Kassandra gave it a few moments consideration before getting to her feet and striding over to Praxos. “I’m sorry my friend,” she put a hand on his beefy shoulder. “I’m tired and hungry and for all my joking, I’m upset about what’s happening. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“That’s all right,” Praxos seemed willing to accept the apology, getting up and pulling her into a hug. “It’s been a rough day for everyone,” he slapped her back hard enough to take her breath away. “Not the homecoming that any of us desired eh?”

“No, not really,” she managed once he released her. “Phoibe will be excited to go with you, I’m sure. If she gets too much, or she’s under the feet, I’m sure Barnabas will be only too happy to show her a little of Delos.”

  
  


When she headed for the kitchen later, her stomach gnawing at itself, Kassandra half expected to encounter a morose Phoibe, nursing resentment at her abandonment. Instead she found her sitting at the table with Cymone playing the cup game and singing a heavily censored version of a normally very ribald song about Pan falling in love with a shepherdess.

“Don’t be scowly, it’s not for money,” Phoibe looked up and caught Kassandra’s expression. “And I know I’ve not to sing this in front of Kyra.”

Cymone gave a good natured snort as she dropped half a biscuit under the table, where Orion chomped at it with more noisy enthusiasm than it really warranted. “I do believe I’ve heard your sister and her drinking buddy, Praxos, bellowing out the unexpurgated version of this on their way home from the tavern of an evening. You two would do well to remember that you pass by my window on your way,” she gave Kassandra a playful look from beneath raised brows.

Phoibe darted an anxious glance over at Kassandra. She could be prickly at times about familial titles. Though, she remembered that she’d brought up the topic of family herself while they’d been bathing the previous night. Right now she was smiling and shaking her head in resignation as she took a seat at the table. In fact she seemed downright apologetic as she addressed Phoibe.

“I’m so sorry that I haven’t seen you all day, little one. I honestly didn’t think I’d be stuck in there all this time.”

“Oh that’s all right,” Phoibe pushed a bowl of walnuts towards her. “Will you open these for me please?” Sometimes Kassandra liked to be given something to do by way of apologising. “Cymone and I had a good day. This place is huge! I met the guards, most of them, I think. They’re nice. And I helped make supper!” she gestured proudly at the laden table. “No!” she spotted Kassandra reaching for the water jug. “Not that. This!” she pushed forward a jug of creamy goat milk.

“Ah!” Kassandra eyed it with raised brows, catching Cymone’s amused expression. She was well aware that Kassandra preferred to confine her milk consumption to before noon, finding that if she drank it in the evenings it made her feel queasy.

“I made that!” Phoibe beamed triumphantly. “Well I didn’t  _ make  _ it, obviously. But I milked it. Milked the goats that is. For you.” She poured her a brimming cup, offering it with an expectant smile.

“Well, thank you very much,” Kassandra responded gallantly, taking it in hand and subjecting the contents to a theatrical look, before sniffing and sipping.  Cymone watched in approval as Kassandra upended and drained it in five energetic gulps. She slammed the empty cup down on the table, gave an appreciative sigh and bestowed a milky smile upon Phoibe. “Delicious! That may be the best milk that I have ever tasted.”

Phoibe bounced delightedly in her seat, and smiling proudly refilled Kassandra’s cup. “That’s for you,” she nodded at the jug. “I had mine earlier. It was all warm and frothy. I’ve never had it like that, it was nice.”

Cymone had retrieved her cloak, ready to leave for the evening. She gave Kassandra’s shoulder a quick squeeze and bent to kiss her cheek. “You’re a good girl, Misthios,” she whispered. “Well, I’ll nip into the office on the way out, shall I?” she continued more brightly. “Let the Archon know not to expect any vigorous activity tonight?” she nodded at the jug and winked as Kassandra worked resolutely at her second cup. 

“What am I to expect?” came a voice from the door behind her.

“Gods! Archon,” Cymone exclaimed, dropping her cloak in shock. “Cat’s paws you have, I swear.”

Kyra watched, confused but fondly, as Phoibe trotted over to pick up the cloak and help Cymone on with it. Then she noticed Kassandra’s impressive milk moustache and chuckled. Had they been alone, it occurred to her, it would have been pleasant to kiss it away. As it was she contented herself with wiping her upper lip with a slow sweep of her thumb.

“Late in the day for milk?” she saw that Phoibe and Cymone were still occupied fussing with the cloak and took the opportunity to offer Kassandra her thumb to lick clean.

“Mmm,” she gave her a foxy smile. “But Phoibe got it for me. Her first time milking a goat. You should try some, my love,” she issued a playful challenge.

“Well I’m not fond of milk, but I’d be delighted to,” she picked up the gauntlet smoothly. “Not such a large cup. I don’t share your voracious appetite,” she gave her a silencing look. “Thank you for all your help today Cymone.”

“With this one?” she laughed, pulling Phoibe into a hug. “Gods Archon, she’s the best present you’ve ever given me. I’ll see you in the morning, my little chicken,” she bent to kiss her. “Sleep well, all of you.”

As Kyra took a seat opposite and politely sipped her milk Kassandra took a plate and guided by her eyes and confirming smile, filled it with a little grilled meat and vegetables, before adding a piece of flatbread and pushing the plate towards her.

“Eat, love,” she eased forward a saucer of olive oil and smiled encouragingly. “It’s been a long, trying day, and if you're half as hungry as I was then you’re ravenous.”

As she took her seat Phoibe spotted their loosely intertwined fingers and Kassandra’s devoted smile. None of this seemed so bad now, she realised. It was nice, not threatening, to sit here in the quiet villa, with Kyra and Kassandra looking fondly at each other.

“You don’t have to drink that, Kyra,” she said generously. “Not everyone likes milk. Kassandra will finish it for you,” she missed the weary eye roll that greeted this.

“Thank you Phoibe,” Kyra looked tired, Phoibe thought, a little drawn and there was something pained about her eyes. Kassandra would be able to sort that out.  “I’m sorry we kept Kassandra from you all day. I truly didn’t realise that was going to happen,” Kyra explained as Kassandra served Phoibe a rather more generous supper.

“Oh that’s all right. Thank you Kassandra. Cymone explained it all to me,” she layered some tender young goat meat and grilled vegetables onto a piece of bread. “You’re a very busy woman. I get that now. We had a really nice day actually.”

“You seem to be getting along very well with Cymone?” Kyra poured her some water.

“I like her a lot,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food. “She reminds me of Sophitia a bit, but less sexy.”  Kassandra had been surveying the table for something suited to soaking up her bellyful of milk. She’d settled on a dish of vegetables and beans. A good portion of the spoonful she’d been serving herself hit the table with a plop at Phoibe’s observation.  “I don’t mean  _ not  _ sexy,” Phoibe sounded conciliatory. “I’m sure she is, if you -”

“So, how did you spend your day,” Kyra swallowed a smile as she watched Kassandra trying to clean up the spill, blushing hotly. “Apart from learning to milk Kassandra’s beloved goats of course?”

“That took a lot longer than I expected, if I’m honest,” she admitted. “It’s harder than it looks. Cymone says that you’re really good at it Kyra?” Kassandra had moved on to prying apart the walnuts with a firm twist of her thumbnail. “She says  _ you  _ don’t milk them,” Phoibe watched her admiringly. “But she thinks you’d be good at it given you’re experienced with your hands. Thanks,” she accepted the saucer of split nuts that Kassandra inched over to her with a determinedly non-committal look.  “Then we went to meet your guards. They all look sort of fierce, but they seem really nice,” she was chewing thoughtfully. “I like the big, fat man, with the bald head. I can’t remember his name.”

“Praxos?” said Kassandra cheekily.

“No!” Phoibe frowned, concentrating on winkling a nugget of nut meat from the shell. “He’s not fat anyway. He’s what Selene calls handsomely appointed.”

“Selene is something of a diplomat,” Kassandra was chuckling as she ate. “But  _ not  _ Praxos then?”

“No, this man isn’t as tall as you, and he’s definitely tubby. His belly jiggles when he laughs. He seems really nice, but I don’t know how good a guard he is. I can’t imagine him ever poking anyone with that big spear of his.”

Kyra nibbled on a morsel of bread and reflected on the time she’d seen the guard in question launch his impressive bulk at two of Podarkes’ men. He’d driven his spear through both of their chests with a terrifying, barely human roar, before launching them off a cliff, spear and all, like some ungodly kebab. His belly had jiggled with laughter then too. But later that night, in the safety of the hideout he had wept, as he recalled Podarkes’ men years earlier, piling on top of him, pinning him helpless as a butterfly, as the Archon himself butchered his grandchildren before him.

Phoibe would be safe with him, always. Just as she would be safe with any of her guards. Kyra had hand selected every man and woman of them. Even those who had formerly been the most drunken and lecherous of her rebels had fought so that children might play safely in the streets of Mykonos.  She encountered them now and again when she visited the orphanage. Sometimes they would try to disguise the reason for their presence by flirting with the wet nurses, but she saw them crouching down to let the children see their reflections in their shiny breastplates, holding out their heavy helmets so that the young ones might stroke the colourful crests. More of them than just Phoibe’s new friend had seen the green branches of their family trees crudely pruned by Podarkes and his men. They were unlikely to pass a day without remembering it.

“He gave me some stuff, like a little hard nugget of something. He said to chew it after I’d eaten and it would help keep my teeth clean,” she was ferreting around in the depths of her pocket, eventually producing a fluffy looking lump of translucent resin with a few biscuit crumbs stuck to it. “There it is,” she beamed. “Mastif...mastigate...mastur -”

“Mastic,” Kassandra supplied quickly, eyeing it with distaste. “Good idea to wrap it in something before you put it in your pocket mind you.”

“Does it work then?” Phoibe was sniffing it experimentally. “I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not.”

“No, it works very well,” Kyra laughed. “They call it Tears of Chios, the trees look like they’re weeping when it oozes out. Kassandra chews it all the time, it keeps your breath sweet.”

“It tastes bitter at first,” Kassandra was cleaning her plate with a piece of bread. “Then it tastes how pine trees smell.”

“There’s some in that red bowl over there,” Kyra was teasing a slice of meat into thin strips, eating without much enthusiasm Kassandra noticed. She looked exhausted. “I’ll have some sent up to your room if you like, you could chew it before bedtime?”

“Or?” Kassandra looked from her to Phoibe. “You could put some in one of the dry cups and take it up yourself when you go to bed.”

“Good idea,” Phoibe was following her instructions. “I can still chew this one though eh? Seems a shame to waste it seeing as he gave it to me. I’ll just spit out the fluff. Well not spit...pick,” she amended quickly, looking to Kyra.

“You know, Phoibe,” Kassandra began, adding a little goat meat and greens to the last of her beans. “It must seem like there are a lot of staff here.”

“Mmm, I know,” she bit into a peach. A thin stream of amber juice ran down onto her tunic. “Bother. I won’t wear this tomorrow. I promise, I’ll wash it. Actually what do we do about laundry? I meant to ask Cymone but I forgot, there was a lot to take in. When do we change our sheets? We did it quite often at Selene’s, but she was super strict, because...well,” she waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“I was about to say that it will be done for you,” Kyra pushed aside her plate, she’d eaten less than Kassandra would have liked and was pouring some wine into the last of the water in her cup. “But I suspect that Kassandra is going to tell you something different.”

“There are staff who do that,” Kassandra rubbed the back of her neck, painfully aware all of a sudden that she had not changed the bed linens once during her time here. She knew for a fact that when she and Kyra retired to bed shortly, the sheets, with their tell-tale stains of last night’s passion, would have been replaced with fresh new bedding.

Before she could continue, Phoibe had rescued her. “I get why they do that for you,” she filled in. “Kyra’s really busy running the orphanage and building the docks, and you have to protect her, Cymone explained all that. You need to be doing other stuff, not making beds. But I’m used to it. I helped a lot back home, I mean back at Selene’s,” she amended awkwardly. “I could help here. I’d like to. Not just Cymone I mean, I could -”

“Phoibe,” Kyra caught her hand gently. It felt a little sticky from the mastic. “We didn’t bring you here to be a servant.”

“No, I know. But I’m going to help Praxos with the hunting. How’s that different really?”

“It’s more fun?” Kassandra began to gather up the plates.

“Maybe,” Phoibe shrugged, getting up to help her. “But you can’t just do the fun things remember. Selene says fun’s more fun if you’re not having it all the time. And I can’t just do nothing. Besides, what’s wrong with being a servant?”

“Nothing at all,” Kassandra sighed. Gods the girl could be tiring sometimes. “So long as you actually are a servant and not a slave disguised as one.”

“Well Kyra doesn’t keep slaves, does she?” Phoibe challenged.

“Gods no! It’s just...like Kyra says, we didn’t bring you here for that.”

“Then what  _ did  _ you bring me here for?” Phoibe flopped back down on her chair, pouting a little.

“Because I lo… I missed you Phoibe, and I made you a promise, and I thought you could be happy here.”

It had been a long day, everyone was tired and Kyra could hear the frustration in Kassandra’s voice. She could feel a headache building behind her eyes, her shoulders aching with tension. The last thing anyone wanted was an avoidable row before bedtime. Harsh words grown from weariness and the events of the morning.  “Sit down Kassandra,” she topped up her cup with water. “Please? Perhaps we should tell Phoibe about Dion?  _ You  _ should tell her about Dion.”

“Dion?” Phoibe frowned deeply, clearly dredging back over the events of the day. “I don’t remember everyone’s name yet, like I said, there are so many.”

“No, no,” Kassandra poured herself a cup of wine. “You haven’t met him yet. You see, the thing is Phoibe. These are interesting times, and the islands are interesting places. People are talking and thinking and creating, in ways that they aren’t on Kephallonia and Ithaka. There are new things to learn. I know Selene and the others did their best, but you’re a smart girl. Intelligent. You could learn much more with the right people to teach you.”

“I’m going to school?” Phoibe’s tone was difficult to place. Learning new things sounded exciting she thought, but didn’t school mean a room full of children? There had been children on Kephallonia, but not that many, and for one reason or another Phoibe hadn’t associated with them much. The idea of suddenly being thrust into a whole room full of them, full of children from a more sophisticated, wealthier place, filled her with trepidation. They would think she was some rough back-woods creature, laugh at her accent.

“Not exactly,” Kyra intervened. “You’re already much better educated than a lot of the children here, the school is a new development. We thought it would be better for you to have a tutor of your own.”

Phoibe chewed her lip thoughtfully for a few moments. Absentmindedly she pulled the lump of mastic from her pocket, picked off the worst of the lint and popped it in her mouth, grimacing at the taste and casting a reproachful look at Kassandra.

“Keep going, it gets better,” she nodded, taking a piece for herself from the cup Phoibe had filled.

“Is a tutor like a teacher then?” she asked at last.

“Mmm,” Kassandra nodded. “But just for you. You and him, learning together.”

“Learning what?” 

“All kinds of things,” Kyra continued hopefully. “He’s an elderly man, but not old in his mind and he knows many learned people. Not just men either,” she added significantly. “Writers, poets, philosophers, musicians, mathematicians.”

“Could he teach me to draw better?” She was looking pensive now, her jaw working steadily. “Like how to make things look further away?”

“Probably not himself,” Kyra mustered a laugh. “But I’m sure he knows someone who could. We haven’t arranged anything Phoibe. We wanted to talk it over with you. Perhaps you could meet him and have a chat, see how you get on? If you’d like that?”

“I think I would,” Phoibe said at last. “When can I meet him?”

“Well, he was on Kos the last I’d heard, I’ll send word,” Kyra poured herself a little more water, and accepted a couple of dates from the plate Phoibe offered.

“Oh,” she sounded a little deflated. “But...will he come do you think?”

“Will he come?” Kassandra was puzzled.

“Yes, I mean, if he’s so smart and he knows all these clever people,” Phoibe was turning a date between her fingers, showing no inclination to eat it. “I’m...well I’m just some orphan girl from an island full of goats.”

“Excuse me!” Kyra put down her cup while Kassandra was still trying to compose an answer. “You are brave, intelligent, hardworking. You are Phoibe of Kephallonia, sister of the mighty Kassandra of Sparta and friend of Kyra, Archon of the Silver Islands. He’ll get his aging carcass over here double quick, if he knows what’s good for him.”  Phoibe looked at her, open mouthed, the date dropping disregarded from her fingers.

“Plus he’s Kyra’s old tutor,” Kassandra laughed, but she was looking gratefully at Kyra all the same. “He obviously enjoys teaching challenging young women.”

“He’s an interesting fellow,” Kyra smiled. “I think you’ll like him. I  _ know  _ he’ll like you.”

“Thank you Kyra,” Phoibe said quietly, giving her a shy smile. “I think I’ll enjoy having a tutor. What should we do tomorrow?” she looked over at Kassandra. “Will you be able to show me around?”

“Ah. Well we have to make a visit to the docks in the morning,” she began.

“Great! Can I come? Please? I won’t be any trouble. I promise. I’ll sit off to one side and watch you work. Unless you’re shopping? If you’re shopping I can carry stuff for you. I’m strong for my size,” she flexed a scrawny arm.

“Not tomorrow sadly, little one,” Kassandra looked suitably awkward. “We’re going on business and, well, it might get a little unpleasant, not dangerous,” she reassured her. “But there might be...cross words,” she settled.

Phoibe beamed, not in the least discouraged. “Then I’ll get to see Kyra putting people in their place again, like with Markos, but being the Archon this time.”

“Actually,” Kyra could see Kassandra floundering mentally. “The rather more important reason is that Praxos needs you.”

“Me?” Phoibe’s eyebrows rose.

“Mmm,” Kyra nodded. “He has to go on an errand for me tomorrow. To return some wine to Delos.”

“The stuff that was on the Adrestia that Odessa kept grumbling about?” Phoibe was bouncing enough to rouse Orion from his slumber under the table. He shook his great jowly head, spattering drool about him and then padded outside to make his nightly patrol of the yards.

“The exact same,” Kyra decided to skate over the Odessa connection. “He wanted you to go with him. He’d like you to see a little of Delos and meet his friend who runs the vineyards...real vineyards.”

“The one who chopped off a man’s head and sent it to his brother?” she queried with rather too much enthusiasm for Kassandra’s comfort.

“He tells me that was...well not exactly out of character,” Kassandra chewed at a toothpick. “But not typical behaviour at any rate.”

“You’ll be perfectly safe with Praxos and Barnabas, and Korax loves young people,” Kyra assured her. And you can get a little taste of what Delos is like.”

“Full of stuck up rich people, according to Cymone,” Phoibe shrugged. “And she says the priests of Apollo all have sticks up -”

“Well we won’t be saying any of this out loud on Delos, will we?” Kassandra's question was not a question at all, Phoibe realised.

“No, of course not!” she snorted in derision. “I’m on the Archon’s business, best behaviour!”

“I have no doubt,” Kyra smiled. “You can come down to the docks with us and we’ll see you aboard before we go about our business. You should be back by suppertime and you can tell us all about it.”

“Great,” Phoibe grinned. “I should go to bed, we’ll have to be up early, no?” she was looking anxiously towards the door, Kyra noticed.

“Why don’t you go up to bed sweetheart, Kassandra can tuck you in, and I’ll send up Orion when he comes back in?” she suggested.

“Right, good night, Kyra, sleep well,” Phoibe stopped by the door and looked back hesitantly as Kassandra hauled herself wearily to her feet. Making her way back across the kitchen she stopped a pace away from Kyra’s chair.  “Yes?” she looked up. She seemed really tired, Phoibe thought. Kassandra should just let her sleep tonight.  “May I give you a hug?”

Kyra looked a bit stunned, and blinked slowly, before swallowing. She began to speak, a little hoarsely, cleared her throat and started again. “Please, Phoibe,” she turned in her seat to face her. “I’d like that very much,” she held out her arms, gasping a little as Phoibe wrapped her arms around her neck and kissed her cheek before hugging her tightly.

“Thank you for lending me Orion, Kyra,” she whispered. “That’s really kind of you. I won’t be any trouble for Praxos tomorrow, I promise.”

Kyra found that now she had Phoibe in her arms, she was reluctant to let go. She pressed her face to the little girl’s hair, breathing in the scent of sun and dust, and the sharp pine of the resin she was still chewing. She brushed a kiss to her forehead and forced herself to relax her embrace. “Don’t forget,” she held up the cup that Phoibe had filled with mastic tears earlier. “Sleep well sweetheart. I will see you in the morning.”

Once they were safely out of earshot she rested her head in her hands, realizing how dangerously close to tears she was. If she started now, she was afraid she’d be unable to stop. It had all been so close to working, she thought. Phoibe had been initially overwhelmed but was making a determined effort to settle in. Orion and Cymone had proved to be unanticipated secret weapons. If only it weren’t for the events of the morning, how different she’d be feeling now. To think that she’d spent all that time aboard ship worrying about Alector cheating Aegeus over the grain. How foolish that seemed now.

A wet nose nudged against her elbow and Orion rested his massive head on her lap, looking up at her with concerned, brown eyes. “Hello boy,” she turned and rubbed his ears, resting her face against his wrinkled brow and breathing in his comforting doggy smell. “Thank you for helping with Phoibe,” she whispered.  He raised his head, looking around inquisitively and Kyra found she was laughing tearfully. “She’s not here boy. Phoibe has gone to bed. Go find Phoibe, good boy.” He cocked his head, ears twitching, seeking confirmation. “Bed. With Phoibe,” she patted his powerful neck. “Good boy!” He thumped his tail loudly against the table leg, gave her a wet kiss and romped out. She heard him scrabbling up the stairs and as she expected, a few moments later, the faint sounds of Phoibe’s delight and Kassandra’s disgruntlement.

There was no point sitting here brooding about matters, she decided, getting up and securing the door to the yard, before extinguishing the lamps. Her head was throbbing, tension from her shoulders making it feel as though her whole skull was screwed on too tight. Flexing her neck, hearing the joints cracking, she made her way up to their bedroom.

  
  


Closing Phoibe’s door behind her Kassandra decided that she could get to like this whole “tucking in” business. Things between Kyra and Phoibe were turning out better than she’d expected. Thanks in no small part to Cymone’s motherly warmth and Orion’s canine diplomacy she supposed, but whatever the reasons, they seemed to be warming to each other. If only all this vicious shit hadn’t kicked off in their absence. Hopefully they’d be able to get Phoibe aboard the Adrestia tomorrow without her overhearing anything incriminating.

In the bedroom she found Kyra dressed in a light nightshirt, standing by the open balcony windows, arms folded, looking out over the grounds. She looked as lovely as ever at first glance, the lamplight outlining her curves through the fine fabric, but any arousal Kassandra might have experienced was muted by her body language.  She must have such a headache, she thought, studying the tension in her upper body, her shoulders tight up around her ears. Crossing the room towards her, she pulled off her own tunic, draped it over a chair back and extinguished a couple of lamps in passing. The light wouldn’t help, she supposed. Once behind her, she looped her arms about her waist, easing her backwards.“Headache, love?” she whispered.

“Is it so obvious?” Kyra tried to make light of it, unsuccessfully.

“Only to anyone who knows you,” Kassandra held her close, rocking her slowly in her embrace. “I’m so sorry about all this my love. I can’t help but feel that it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t spent my youth fucking my way across the Aegean they wouldn’t be able to use me against you now.”

“Whilst I could have done without that confirmation,” Kyra mustered a weak laugh, “they’d be using whoever I was with as fuel against me, I’m sure.”

“I suppose so. But perhaps someone else wouldn’t be providing them with such easy pickings.”

“I don’t want anyone else. I want you, Kassandra,” she gripped her arms.

“Luckily, you have me,” she kissed her temple.

“I’m scared,” Kyra said quietly at last. “About tomorrow.”

Of course she was, Kassandra thought. Her own presence in the pictures was of no concern to her. Had anyone threatened to undermine Kassandra’s reputation by flooding the agora with nude drawings of her, she would have laughed in their face before taking up residence by the stalls, stark naked, offering to sign the pictures.

Kyra however. That was a completely different matter. That morning she had woken, well rested and well loved, had got out of bed and washed away the signs of the previous night’s coupling. She’d put on her elegant chiton, dressed her hair, arranged the laurels and lined her eyes. Then she’d made her way down to her office. And there Praxos, Savina and even presumably Aegeus, had confronted her with a gallery of appalling drawings.

She’d sat at her desk and looked at them all. 

At Kassandra reclining louchely among a harem of faceless women, probing with fingers and tongue; at explicit depictions of herself sprawling and splayed, exposing herself to the unknown artist, smirking knowingly; at Kassandra bending her over and athletically taking her from behind, grinning down at her glistening olisbos and boasting of Spartan stamina; at images of her pleasuring herself while Kassandra, with her face buried between Nike’s thighs, compared the taste of the two sisters. 

Gods, she closed her eyes, the list went on and on. And all the while Kassandra had been snoring in bed, rather than standing by her side to support her.

“We are going to march down to those docks tomorrow, my love,” she kissed her ear. “With our heads high. You are going to talk to this young whatsisname and see what he’s discovered. Then we’re going to visit the poor bastards who’ve eaten the fish and find out what, if anything, can be done for them. You are the Archon. And I am your Misthios, and may the gods help anyone who tries to stand in your way. And when we find the sniveling little bastard behind this, he’s going to rue the day he was born. Now,” she took hold of her shoulders. “Before all that, you need some sleep. Do you have any of that lavender oil?” Kyra nodded towards her dressing table. “Take off that shirt love,” she kissed the nape of her neck. “Let’s see if I can get rid of some of these knots.”

As she lay face down on the bed, feeling the evening breeze raising goose-flesh along her back, Kyra tried to put everything out of her mind. The morning’s humiliation, the anxiety about tomorrow. The bed sank as Kassandra sat beside her. She heard her unstopping the bottle, smelt the scent filling the air as she warmed the oil between her palms. When she began to work at her shoulders Kyra couldn’t prevent an initial yelp of pain. Every muscle felt inflamed.

“Too hard?” Kassandra asked, easing off, stroking softly with her palms.

“No,” Kyra shook her head. “I mean, yes, but don’t stop, please, it’ll feel better in a little while.”  She felt the soft brush of Kassandra’s lips between her shoulder blades before she began to work again, her powerful thumbs seeking out every tight bundle of muscle, kneading and pressing as Kyra whimpered softly, until each knot unraveled beneath her touch, and Kyra began to relax.  How long she lay there, feeling the process repeated, searching, working, relaxing, moving on, she had no idea. But eventually the pain in her head eased to bearable background discomfort. Its reduction brought new pain though. However hard she tried, the images of the morning floated before her mind’s eye.  And if  _ she  _ was imagining them, so might people in the city. Even now there could be men laughing and sneering over drinks, passing around undiscovered pictures as they lewdly speculated about what the young Archon and her handsome lover were up to right now.

Kassandra sensed Kyra’s shoulders tensing again beneath her hands, before she felt them begin to shake with poorly suppressed sobs. “Hey,” she climbed over, quick and careful, laying down behind her and pulling her close against her. “It’s all right love. Not right now, but it will be. We are going to make this right. Praxos, Savina, me, even Aegeus. We are going to get to the root of this. Come,” she turned Kyra in her arms, feeling strong archer’s fingers clutching at her waist, tears scalding her chest. Pressing her lips to her forehead she spoke softly.

“Kyra of Mykonos. Saviour of the Silver Islands. Queen of the Rebels. I love you with all my heart. I helped you free these islands because they were under the boot of an evil man. I’d be lying though, if I said that I didn’t do it to make you happy too. But despite everything we fought for, everything we won and lost, just let the people here hurt you and at your word, I will bring their paradise down around their ears. I will make love to you in the smoking wreckage and when they weep and ask me why, I will turn to them and say, “Is this not what you desired when you threw my queen’s gifts back in her face?” Sleep now, love,” she kissed her forehead. “I would face down the gods themselves for you Kyra, the sneers of the Silver Islanders are nothing to us.”

  
  



	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyra displays her leadership credentials.

It was Kassandra who found herself roused by Savina’s hesitant knocking the next morning. Glancing down she saw Kyra still fast asleep, curled tightly around her.

“It’s me...Savina,” came the halting response to Kassandra’s low invitation to enter.

She rolled her eyes and took a breath. “I know, Savina. I’m saying come in, please. I’m not pulling some prank, I swear.”

The door inched open and Savina’s pretty face peeped in, her expression cautious. When she saw that it was Kyra who was naked and oblivious this morning, whilst Kassandra lay somewhat clothed and awake, she gained confidence and ventured in. Her expression softened as she looked at her friend. “Poor Kyra,” she murmured, almost to herself. “She’s done nothing to deserve this, Misthios. Any of it.”

“I know, Savina,” she gave her a nod. “And I swear, when I find out who’s behind it.” She decided not to complete her threat. Savina had little stomach for violence as far as she knew.

“What can we do, Misthios?” she asked, looking at Kassandra with such sincerity that it stunned her for a moment.

“We’re going to do whatever she wants us to,” she recovered her composure. “We’re going to do our jobs to the best of our abilities. And that piece of advice is for me Savina,” she smiled. “I’m well aware that after the Archon, there isn’t a person in this place who works longer or harder than you. And we’re going to make sure that she knows we love her,” she finished softly, looking down as Kyra began to stir in her arms, the quiet voices nudging her from sleep.

Savina hugged her tablet to her chest and licked her lips anxiously before speaking again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how much the Archon has shared of our past together,” she kept her eyes on Kyra as she addressed Kassandra.

“Very little really,” she assured her. “She would never betray your confidence.”

“I truly believe that I owe her my life, Misthios. There is nothing that I wouldn’t do to help her.”

“I promise you Savina, that if either of us have any say in it, you will not be asked to do anything against your conscience.”

Kyra was almost awake now, raising her head from Kassandra’s chest and blinking sleepily, her hair tousled and eyes still puffy from weeping. Her black eye was largely faded, but it would still present a less than dignified first impression.

“Good morning sleepy head.” In her peripheral vision Kassandra saw Savina politely fussing with something on the dressing table as an excuse to turn her back on them. Brushing Kyra’s messy hair out of her eyes she gave her a lingering kiss and rested her forehead against hers. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” she murmured, reaching up and touching Kassandra’s cheek with her fingertips. “Thank you for last night, my love.” The sound of Savina clearing her throat made her turn and she registered her presence. “Oh good morning Savina, I didn't see you there, I apologise.”

“No, no,” she shook her head, turning back to face them. “I’m sorry it’s necessary to wake you, you must be exhausted after yesterday.”

“Do I look it?” Kyra was struggling up, rubbing her neck cautiously, the headache at least was gone.

Savina grimaced apologetically. “Perhaps just a shade?” she ventured diplomatically.

“Eurgh,” Kyra swung her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her face wearily. “Do you think that you could help me to do something about…?” she looked at Savina and gestured mournfully at her puffy eyes and battle scars.

“Of course. I’m sure I can. That black eye must have been most dramatic when you were first hit,” she tutted sympathetically. “I had never really considered, not being much of a sailor, but I suppose such accidents must occur all the time.”

Clearly Kyra had decided to be economical with the truth regarding her injuries Kassandra decided, avoiding looking at her in case her expression gave the game away. Any potential awkwardness was avoided by a sharp rap at the door and Phoibe burst in, dressed and coiffed and grinning excitedly. For a moment Kyra’s instinct was to fumble for the sheets to cover herself, but perhaps unsurprisingly given her upbringing, Phoibe seemed oblivious to nudity.

“Good morning Kassandra, Kyra, did you sleep well? I slept like a log. Orion got under the covers. He just did it, I didn’t make him, I swear, and he put his head on the pillow, like people, it was so funny. His breath doesn’t smell much for a dog you know. Can dogs chew mastic do you think, or would they just swallow it down? Cymone says that he’s staying with her today while we do Archon business. Praxos is already up, well everyone is already up really. Aegeus is here as well. He seems a bit, I don’t know, sort of nervy. You remember that old man back in Sami, Kassandra, he’d got stranded on that island that one time and pirates picked him up and he was never quite right again afterwards? Aegeus reminds me a little bit of him. But he likes dogs, so he must be all right. Perhaps he’s just... what does Selene call it? Like horses? High strung? Highly strung. I think he’s highly strung. His guard is lovely though. Leto? She has some  _ really  _ great scars, but I didn’t ask, because it looked like some bad thing had happened. Like some  _ really _ bad thing. She has a lovely smile though. And she let me hold her sword. It’s really heavy. Not as heavy as yours though Kassandra, but she must be pretty strong, no? If you and her wrestled, who do you think would win? Well you would win obviously, but it would be a good bout no? I would like to see that.”

Mercifully she paused for breath at this point and Kassandra leapt out of bed and made for her. “That’s a very interesting question and I do train with the guards, so who knows? But what I  _ do  _ know is that Kyra needs to get ready. Tell you what! Why don’t you and I go and get some breakfast?” She began to inch her towards the door. “Then afterwards you can help me put on my armour? And in the meantime Savina is going to help Kyra disguise that shiner of hers.”

“Can I really?” Phoibe was grinning excitedly over her shoulder as Kassandra took hold of her and urged her forward. “Help with your armour I mean? Oh! Shark liver oil!” she slipped out of her grasp and looked over to Kyra, finding herself the subject of three confused looks moments later.

“What now?” Kassandra grabbed for her hand, deciding it would make for a more secure hold than her shoulder.

“Shark liver oil. For your black eye,” Phoibe nodded. “Though it’s more greeny now really. Do you have any? Iva swears by it.”

“Does Iva get a lot of black eyes?” Kassandra queried, not sure if puzzlement or concern was the appropriate response.

“Phh, no!” Phoibe sounded scornful. “But it's good for if you’ve been crying and you need to look pretty, not that she cries a lot, but if you’ve been imscribing the night before it’s good for that too,” she chattered as Kassandra hauled her towards the door.

“If you’ve been  _ what _ ?” she pushed her through and closed it behind them.

“Imscribing, you know,” she made a theatrical drinking gesture.

“Imbibing!” Kassandra laughed. “Well I guess I’m going to be asked to go shark hunting some time soon then.”

“Oh oh! Really? Can I come? Not to get in the water or anything, cos they’re a bit scary I think, though it’s not the great big ones you get it from it’s the little ones. Clio and Iva get it from Sophitia. Why has Kyra been crying?”

“What now?” Kassandra was sufficiently taken aback by the question, to miss the blushing smiles from two passing house maids. “What makes you -”

“Well that wasn’t just a black eye,” Phoibe tucked her thumbs in her belt and nodded knowingly as they reached the foot of the stairs. “I thought she’d be happy to be home. Did you do something to upset her?”

“No! Not at all. Quite the opposite,” Kassandra gave it some consideration as they headed to the kitchen. “I was very comforting actually, I -”

“I don’t need all the details,” Phoibe held up a hand. “Just wondered, cos she looked like she’d been upset.”

A few paces from the kitchen Kassandra caught hold of her shoulder and crouched on her haunches beside her. “Look, you’re right Phoibe. Kyra  _ was  _ upset yesterday. Something happened while we were away that probably wouldn’t have if we’d been here. It's nothing for you to worry about, and it's sort of…” she considered. “Sort of messy and grown up. I’m sorry to say it like that...but it just is. It's too complicated and awkward to talk about really, but we’ll sort it out. I’d just be grateful if you wouldn’t bring it up.”

Phoibe pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Would it upset Kyra again?” she checked at last, and waited for Kassandra’s nod. “Then I won’t say anything. Can I do something to help?”

“Not mentioning it, that will be a massive help,” Kassandra got to her feet and placed a gentle hand on the back of Phoibe’s head, encouraging her to walk again. “Thank you.”

“S’all right,” she shrugged. “She’s been nice. Letting me share Orion. I don’t want to upset her on purpose.”

In the kitchen Cymone was setting breakfast dishes on the table. To Kassandra’s surprise Leto was sitting by the stove, eating a pastry.

“She said she couldn’t put up with never knowing if I was going to get hurt at work,” she was muttering around a mouthful of cheese and spinach. “But she knew I was a guard, when we started seeing each other. She was all over the armour back then... oh hello young Phoibe,” she smiled, brushing crumbs from her breastplate as she got to her feet, hiding the pastry behind her back. “Misthios Kassandra!”

“Don’t be Misthios Kassandra-ing her,” Cymone laughed, giving Phoibe a swift half hug as she passed. “Wandering in here in her underwear, like it’s a bathhouse. You’re shameless,” she grinned broadly, wagging a playful finger in her direction.

“She is, pretty much,” Phoibe nodded. “Are they apricots?” She eyed a bowl. “May I try one, please?”

“You may have as much of anything as you like, my little dumpling. Would you go and get some milk for Kassandra?” She handed her a jug and watched fondly as Phoibe tucked it under one arm, taking a ripe apricot in each hand, before skipping happily off. She waited till she was safely out of earshot. “And how is the Archon this morning?” her voice was as solemn as Kassandra had ever heard it.

Nodding at Leto to sit down and continue her breakfast she followed suit, slicing some cheese and chewing thoughtfully for a minute. “Well, not good, but that’s to be expected really, I suppose.”

“It’s a bloody disgrace is what it is,” Cymone scowled, watering a jug of wine. “There are some miserable, ungrateful bastards on these islands, I’ll tell you that. They want to cast their minds back to when they had an Archon who decorated the pergolas with flayed corpses. We’d something to complain about then, and three quarters of them were scared to open their mouths.”

“She’s still insistent on visiting the docks this morning?” Leto accepted a cup from Cymone and popped the last of the pastry in her mouth.

“Of course,” Kassandra began, tearing into the still warm bread.

“Of course she is,” Cymone slammed the point of the knife she was holding into the table with more force than she’d intended. “Because she’s not some sniveling dirty minded little coward who starts things behind people’s backs. You might not always like what the Archon has to say, but she’ll say it to your face and give you a chance to say something back. Will one of you big lasses get this knife out of here, I didn’t realise I had it in my hand.”

“Good job it was just the table then,” Kassandra laughed, reaching out to jerk it free. “She’s just getting Savina to... I don’t know, do something with cosmetics to disguise her black eye.”

“Oh yes!” Cymone held out the fruit bowl to Leto who took a cluster of grapes. “And what were  _ you  _ doing?” she gave Kassandra an arch look. “Allowing the woman you love to get smacked in the face while she was  _ hauling sails _ , was it?”

“Well, it wasn’t the sail.” She concentrated very hard on peeling an apple, something she generally didn’t concern herself with. “It was a...stray...blow...I think…” she suddenly realised that she had no idea what yarn Kyra had spun to cover the injuries.

“I don’t believe I said that it was the sail, did I?” Cymone pouted pensively. “Just tell me the other woman...or man...looked worse,” she grinned quickly.

Kassandra glanced up cautiously, her eyes flitting from Cymone to Leto and back. They were both smirking. “It was pretty much a draw to be honest.”

“Fair enough,” Cymone shrugged. “She’ll be safe this morning,” she continued as Phoibe returned, a good deal more cautiously than she’d left, nursing a brimming jug in her hands. “You’ve got this one here going with you,” she jerked a thumb in Leto’s direction.

“Really?” Phoibe caught the tail of the comment. “Can you? I mean are you allowed? Do you not have to stay with Aegeus all the time?”

“No, only when he’s out and about on official business,” she laughed, tossing her grape seeds into the stove and getting to her feet. “The rest of the time I’m just a regular old guard.”

“The rest of the time, we’re sworn to not clock him round the ear when he -” Cymone stopped herself and smiled apologetically at Leto. “Sorry sweetheart, I always forget about your ear.”

“A woman like yourself, who can cook like a goddess may say what she likes about my ear,” she laughed, picking up her helmet. “Especially if she says it on my deaf side,” she winked, giving the cook a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you outside,” she patted Phoibe’s head in passing.

Cymone watched her striding out and shook her head slightly. “You know between the two of you, if I were thirty years younger, I might have been a lot more adventurous.”

Kassandra was too busy downing a mug of milk to reply but Phoibe was thoughtfully working her way around the fruit bowl. There were so many different things to try here, and so many of them were delicious. “Selene says you’re never too old to try something new,” she mumbled, mouth full of peach.  Kassandra spluttered a bit and put down her empty cup.

“Well!” Cymone braced her hands on her hips and gave her a playfully challenging look. “Hear that Kassandra? You’d be gentle with me right? My first time.”

“Kassandra’s spoken for,” Phoibe seemed oblivious to the warning look she was getting.

“Oh damn, that’s right,” Cymone laughed. “The Archon doesn’t strike me as much for sharing.”

“You are going to be looking for a job at Mikis’ if Kyra hears you,” Kassandra warned as Praxos ambled in, dipping his head carefully to pass under the door.

“Praxos!” Phoibe beamed. “I’m ready. Am I smart enough? This is my best tunic and one of the ladies here helped me clean my sandals.” She held up a foot for inspection.

An uncharacteristically soft expression melted his usually stern features and he made a point of bending and examining her footwear. “Those are very clean sandals,” he announced approvingly. “But a little bit small, no?”

“Don’t fret Praxos,” Cymone nodded. “I’ve got one of the maids to go to the leather workers with an old one. She’ll have a new pair by tomorrow. Then, young lady, I think you need to go shopping, get some smart new tunics for when you’re out and about representing the Archon eh? Keep your older ones for bed. I always like to sleep in something old and soft.” She cut a chunk of cake and handed it over to her. “Or next to something a bit younger and firmer, given the chance,” she winked at Praxos.

He blushed hotly and cleared his throat, selecting a pear with more consideration than was required. “I’ll be waiting outside for you, whenever you’re ready.” He made a hasty departure.

“I suppose he  _ has _ …?” Cymone followed his exit with a look of consideration, and then quickly remembered Phoibe’s presence. “Well,” she clapped her hands and turned her attention to Kassandra, who was finishing a second mug of milk. “You’re not going like that, are you? Because there’s as many would be delighted as would be appalled, I’m sure. Just not really helpful at the moment, I don’t suppose?”

“Nope!” she got to her feet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Phoibe’s going to be my dresser today. Come on little one, bring your cake with you. I don’t know how long it takes to do cosmetic things, but that’s enough for powdering an eye surely?”

“Oh it can take a lo-ong time!” Phoibe observed, skipping over, munching happily. “And Selene says it takes longer when you get older. So you’re better just not doing it in the first place if you ask me.”

“So says you,” Cymone laughed. “With your skin like a peach, and that one there!” She nodded at Kassandra braced in the doorway, waiting for Phoibe. “Looking like a veritable Adonis, if Adonis was a big, handsome lass. The older you get, the more you need it. I bet that’s what your Selene means.”

“Phht” Phoibe inadvertently showered crumbs on her front. “You don’t wear any, and you’re pretty.”

Cymone laughed delightedly. “Is that your silver tongued sister teaching you this?” She patted Phoibe’s head. “Because you’re not getting any more cake, or there’ll be none left for your supper.”

Kassandra was holding up her hands, clearly amused.

“I’m a very good observer,” Phoibe tapped her nose. “Stuff doesn’t get past me.”

“I bet it doesn’t.” Cymone wiped her eyes on her apron before bending to give her a hug. “You be a good girl for Praxos today all right? He’s a good sort, you’ll be safe with him. And have fun...as much fun as you  _ can  _ have on Delos,” she sighed. “Stuck up buggers.”

They made a grand looking party when they set out for the dock an hour or so later. Leto, Praxos and Kassandra all impressively armoured, Kyra in a formal chiton, modestly jeweled and wearing her laurels. It occurred to Phoibe that her initial reluctance to have new clothes to fit her new life, was perhaps misplaced. Cymone was right. She could keep her comfortable old Kephallonia outfits for sleeping and working around the villa, but she’d grow out of them soon enough anyway. Perhaps going shopping for some new tunics wouldn’t be so bad really.

She was a little surprised, but thoroughly delighted to learn that for all his stern demeanor Praxos was only too happy to give a ride on his massive shoulders to a little girl who was struggling to keep up. “I can see everything from up here!” she announced delightedly as his huge strides ate up the yards. The city was just as magnificent and exotic looking as it had appeared to her when she arrived, but now it struck her as exciting and inviting. It would be a fun place to explore. The roofs of the buildings were like terraces in many places. It would be like a whole new level to discover up there. 

Kassandra on the other hand was a good deal more tense and concerned than she had been at their arrival. She and Leto had Kyra between them, but it wasn’t her physical safety that she was concerned about. They were both well armed, and she knew without a doubt that Kyra would have a double edged dagger sheathed in her boot. She could sense the tension radiating from her body though. She would be carrying another headache tonight at this rate.  More than anything she wanted to take her hand, to let her feel Kassandra’s support beside her. She wanted to bend and whisper in her ear how proud of her she was, striding down the dusty street to the waterfront with her head held high. 

So far, even though she was straining her ears for it, she’d heard no vulgar insinuation from anyone they’d passed. It would be a brave man or a fool to chance it though, she reasoned, glancing from Leto to Praxos and back. There had been a couple of quiet giggles as they’d approached the tavern, but Kassandra doubted that anyone besides her possessed sharp enough hearing to have caught it, and people laughed about all kinds of things. It would help no one to become paranoid.

The Adrestia was already in sight. The big trireme was berthed well away from the commercial area, and Kassandra could see crew members milling about dockside, sorting supplies.

“There’s Gelon!” Phoibe crowed delightedly. “Up the mast!”

Praxos squinted in the direction of her pointing finger. “How on earth can you tell who that is?” he laughed. A deep rumble, that vibrated up Phoibe’s calves and made her laugh as well. “Are your eyes as sharp as Kassandra’s?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “But Gelon is the only one who has a tunic that kind of mustardy colour. It’s nice, it suits her. Brings out her eyes.”

“Your friend Gelon has mustard coloured eyes?” he teased, grabbing hold of her feet and wiggling them playfully.

Kassandra noticed Kyra relaxing a shade as she watched them. The tense line of her lips softened into a smile as she took in how his great hand engulfed the whole of Phoibe’s foot, how she leaned forward on his shiny bald head, chuckling happily.

“No, silly,” she was bouncing in anticipation of seeing her again. 

It could all be so very pleasant Kassandra thought if only they didn’t have those scurrilous pictures lurking in the back of their minds, if they weren’t going to the docks to inquire about poisoned fish. A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Phoibe!”  She turned quickly on Praxos’ shoulders, clearly startled by her tone.  “This is important,” Kassandra moved closer, her voice deadly serious. “Do not eat any fish, any fish at all, until we tell you that it's safe.” She was about to expand but Phoibe interrupted, nodding sagely.

“Cymone told me. I’ve not to touch anything that comes out of the water. Something has made them bad to eat. Like that time Markos dumped all that spoiled oil and a load of fish all floated to the surface. And he scooped them all up and tried to sell them, remember? And Sophitia blacked his eye... sorry Kyra... and kicked him off the dock for interfering with her business.”

“I’d forgotten that,” Kassandra grimaced. She wasn’t sure how. It had been the talk of Sami for a good two weeks. “But yes, just like that. Only we don’t know what’s made the fish bad, not yet. And they aren’t floating to the surface, they’re still swimming around as though nothing is wrong.”

Phoibe was quiet for a few moments, but everyone could hear her mind working. “Perhaps the fish have eaten something bad?” she suggested. “Something that doesn’t kill them but it stays in their stomachs or something, or goes in their blood, and that’s what makes people sick. Like when you give a dog grapes or something. Like... not the same thing poisons everything somehow?” she was frowning in consideration.

“See,” Praxos patted her knees and glanced over to Kyra. “A twelve year old girl can work it out, these dimwits think it's a curse!”

“Let’s not be calling people dimwits, Praxos,” Kyra made a quietening gesture with her hand. “Here or on Delos,” she reminded him.

They had decided earlier that they would all go and see Phoibe settled aboard the ship before heading off to meet with Simmias. As they made for the gangplank there were cheery shouts of greeting, loudest from Gelon, sitting astride the top spar.

“I’ll be down in a minute, little one,” she waved. “Just let me finish up here.”

Kassandra swung Phoibe down from Praxos’ shoulders and straight into a hug. “Be good for him, all right?” She pressed their noses together softly. “Do as he says, stay close by him. Promise?”

“I promise.” She hugged her about the neck and braved a quick kiss to her cheek. “Can I go see Gelon?”  Before racing off she trotted over to Kyra who was deep in conversation now with Praxos. 

Kyra felt the most hesitant of touches on her hand and looked down to see Phoibe waiting patiently for them to finish speaking.  “I just wanted to say goodbye. And to say that I’ll be no trouble for Praxos, I promise. And I hope your Archon business goes well and that you feel happier.”

Kyra found herself struggling to swallow for a moment. Recovering herself she crouched to answer her. “Thank you. You never need to worry about interrupting me, Phoibe. I always want to hear what you have to say. I hope you have a nice trip to Delos. It’s a lovely island. Even if they are a bit... stuck up,” she whispered the last words and winked.

Phoibe gave a quick conspiratorial grin and was about to race off, but stopped, obviously having a second thought. “You look really pretty in your Archon robes,” she nodded. “But I don’t suppose I’m allowed to hug you when you’re the Archon, right?” she checked.

There was an expectant silence from the others, but it lasted no more than a few moments.  “Well no one else is encouraged to,” Kyra held out her arms. “But I am happy to make an exception for Phoibe of Kephallonia.”

“And Kassandra of Sparta?” Kassandra grinned as the hug ended and Kyra got to her feet.

“May keep her hands to herself,” she smiled.

“If Kyra is on duty as Archon,” Phoibe spotted Gelon sliding down the mast, “then you’re on duty as bodyguard no? And you don’t hug your bodyguard. See you tonight!”

“She’s got you there,” Praxos laughed as a piercing whistle from one of the hatches attracted his attention. Odessa’s head appeared above deck.

“Come on, you mountain of a man,” she waved. “Come and get your head around how many casks we have to shift at the other end.”

He hitched up his belt and made to walk over, stopping after a couple of paces and turning back to look at Kassandra. “I will guard your little girl as though she was my own flesh and blood Kassandra,” he nodded. “You do the same for me eh?”

As they made their way along the dock in search of Simmias, Kyra flanked by Leto and Kassandra, they passed a trio of sweating, red-faced men, sitting sprawled atop some upturned fish baskets.

“Seems the Archon likes them big and rough.”

The words were slurred at the very edge of audibility. If it wasn’t for a barely perceptible flinch, Kassandra might have comforted herself with the thought that Kyra hadn’t heard. Leto definitely hadn’t. There was no point trying to identify the speaker among the three drunks, Kassandra decided, relaxing her fists. Best to ignore it, as Kyra was clearly determined to. She had thrown back her shoulders, raised her chin and was following Leto’s lead to where Simmias had his small fishing boat tied up.

He was excited to see them, bobbing an eager, nervous bow to Kyra and shooting a sidelong, clearly impressed look over Kassandra. A small crowd had already gathered, some drawn by the arrival of the Archon and her guards, but some had already been chatting with the young fisherman.

“What have you managed to discover, Simmias?” Kyra asked.

“It’s most fascinating Archon. I took the liberty of talking with your cook, Misthios?” he nodded towards the Adrestia. “You know? The very pretty one from far Egy -”

“Yes, I know very well who you mean,” Kassandra sighed. 

“I bet she does.”

Was that the same voice? She stopped herself from turning to investigate whether the drunks had staggered over to join them.  “What did Ife have to say?”

The crowd was growing now. People about their regular business at the agora had come over to investigate. Kassandra met Leto’s eyes and they both scanned the marketplace for potential support. A couple of patrol guards caught their attention and Leto nodded at them to take up position at the back of the crowd.

“She largely confirmed what I remember my pater telling me. And also warned me not to touch the growth, which was useful. I had been contemplating taking a few samples, to try and see what I could discover about it. It turns out that would have been a very rash move,” he laughed unabashed.

“So, we shouldn’t touch the growth?” Kyra frowned. “Did she have any more practical advice?”

“Confirmation mainly, Archon. My father suspected that it was caused by certain atmospheric conditions, some combination of light and warmth. Ife says that the plant grows rapidly, but dies as quickly as it appears. The whole crisis should be over in one cycle of the moon. Which perhaps explains why some people are inclined to suspect the hand of the goddess in this.”

“And who’s to say it’s not the Huntress’ doing? Who’s to say that she’s not displeased by the way things are being conducted?”

That wasn’t one of the drunks, Kassandra frowned, it was a lighter voice, altogether less slurred.

“I don’t even think that our Egyptian friends worship Artemis,” Simmias stroked his chin thoughtfully “and yet they have regular experiences of this, every two years or so. In fact they keep stores of dried fish for just such an eventuality.”

“Well that’s grand for them.” A woman in the middle of the crowd spoke up. “But what are we to do in the meantime? Those of us with youngsters and the older folks. How are we to make sure they stay fed?”

“There will be an absence of fish, that’s true,” Kyra turned to face them.

“Some will still have all the clams they can eat,” snickered a voice at the back.

Before Kassandra or Leto could make a decision about responding, the woman had spun round.  “Enough of your dirty mouth,” she barked. “Not one of you has a family to worry about. Your wives all left because you drink every last drachma you earn. If you’ve nothing constructive to say, stumble off back to your drinking dens and make yourselves a nuisance to the poor bloody pornai like you usually do!”  There was a murmur of agreement solid enough to silence him for now.  “Seriously Archon, what are we to do?” The woman held out her hands. “Some of us don’t have menfolk to hunt for game, or sufficient stores to feed our families for... how long did you say Simmias?”

“I recall my father saying that you should not eat the fish until the growth had been dead for a week. Ife suggests ten days would be a safer period.” 

“Then we shall take her advice,” Kyra nodded. “It certainly sounds as though she has a good deal more experience of this.”

“That’s our Archon,” came an insolent chuckle. “Always ready to open up for a woman with experience.”

Leto jumped down heavily from the quay and began to inch her way with some difficulty, through the gathered crowd.

Kassandra was determinedly reminding herself of her own advice, to ignore it, to laugh it off. It was considerably more difficult than she’d anticipated, however, now that she was standing here beside Kyra, watching the blush spread up her throat as she bravely raised her chin and addressed the crowd as though she’d heard nothing.

“I hear your concerns and completely understand. Artemis knows we have experienced hunger on these islands, and within all our memories. But rest assured, we have ample supplies of grain and pulses to cover any shortfall. As soon as I return to the villa I shall begin arrangements for their distribution, beginning with the elderly and those with small children to feed. I don’t want to hear of hunters trying to capitalize on this, therefore my guards and my Misthios will make it their duty to provide extra game.”

“Well your Misthios does love a bit of game, that’s a fact!” There was a burst of vulgar laughter from the group of drunks. “Are you sure you can spare her from her  _ other  _ duties?”

“I told you before to hush your vulgar mouth!" The same woman who had turned on him earlier barked back again. “If the Archon says she’ll do something, then it gets done. If we had to rely on you to provide us with a bit of meat to go with our porridge we’d have starved to death long ago.”

Leto was waving over the guards from the back of the crowd, as she made a beeline for the troublemaker.

Kyra could sense Kassandra’s posture stiffening beside her. Glancing down she saw her knuckles whitening as she fisted her hands. “Please give us a couple of days to get things underway. After that if anyone has any further worries about food supplies, make an appointment to see me and my staff at the villa. It would be more efficient if you appointed a spokesperson to deliver your concerns, so we can all use our time to its best. Now if you’ll excuse me, I would like to go and see those who have been taken ill, to see what can be done to help them.”

Leto called out over the heads of the crowd as Kyra made to step down from the quay. “They live very close to each other, Archon. All those who have been taken sick live in the same area. If you follow me, it would be quickest if I led you up the back route.”

“Given her taste for Spartans, I’d wager our Archon has been led up the back route before now!”

For all her talk of laughing it off, Kassandra was unable to control the flaring rage that suddenly ignited. Kyra made an ineffectual grab for her arm, but she’d already jumped down the short wooden steps and was headed for the joker. The whole crowd cowered back as one, parting before her. Kyra descended the steps with a good deal more dignity and stalked after her, lengthening her strides to catch up.

“Kassandra,” she hissed, tapping her arm. “Let’s not -”

Kassandra’s face was like thunder, her eyes flashing and somehow she seemed to have doubled in size, shoulders back, stance broadened. It was enough to flush out the loudmouth. He’d darted behind his drunken friends. None of them were laughing now as he held onto their shoulders, cringing like a whipped dog.  Before she could reach him, Leto had him by the scruff of the neck, shouldering her way past his pale faced cohorts, nodding curtly for the other guards to keep hold of them. She dragged the quivering drunk forward till he was just a yard or two away from Kyra.

“Archon, this cannot be allowed to go unpunished.” She shook him till his head wobbled. 

Kassandra inched forward, grim faced, gratified to see him flinch back against Leto, hoping for protection. He was looking in the wrong place. She pushed him away so forcefully that he almost lost his footing.

“I believe you’re right Leto,” Kyra folded her arms, partly to disguise the shaking of her hands. She mustered an imperious look and surveyed the potential agitator. He looked a good deal less cocky now, cringing in Leto’s grasp, quailing beneath Kassandra’s glower.  “I had come here today anticipating anger and fear,” Kyra scowled, pitching her voice to address the whole crowd. “I had hoped to be able to provide some solace, but more importantly, some practical help. I had expected the people of Mykonos to pull together, as we always have when a crisis has struck. Yet here  _ you  _ are,” she cast a theatrical look up and down him. “The sun not even at its zenith and you are drunk as a wharf rat. You shame yourself and you insult your fellow citizens. And you are foolhardy in your cups. Do you realise who you stand before, looking as though you haven’t washed or shaved in days, stinking like a tavern mop?” 

She turned and placed a hand on Kassandra’s upper arm, feeling how rigid her muscles were. Her lips were drawn into a tight line, her nostrils flared and she was glaring at the sniveling drunk from beneath lowered brows.

“You stand before Kassandra of the great house of Agiad. Direct descendant of the mighty Leonidas. The woman who helped to free the Silver Islands from the yoke of tyranny. And you insult her person and her heritage! Under any other circumstances I would have you thrashed, dragged to the jail and left there to contemplate your behaviour. But your vulgar attempts at levity insulted everyone here. So you can atone by making yourself useful. Leto? Take him to a cell until he sobers up. Then you will be escorted to the supply warehouses where you will work to help distribute rations until this crisis is resolved.”

“It’s better than you deserve,” a woman’s voice rang out from the crowd. “He’s a filthy wretch and a hazard to the womenfolk of the town, and that’s a fact.”

“Well, perhaps working till you’ve sweated out all that cheap wine will give you time to think,” Leto growled in his ear.

“And your comrades,” Kyra turned to the other two. They had been working to make themselves appear as small as possible, hoping to avoid her wrath by their silence. As she turned to look at them, the patrol guards strengthened their grip on their shoulders pushing them forward. “You were happy enough to laugh along, to egg on your insolent friend. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see him labouring alone. You can go with him. Take them away.”

Leto handed off her prisoner to one of the guards and the crowd drew aside to let them drag the three muttering drunks off to the cells.

“Now,” Kyra took a steadying breath. “We have some visits to make.”

  
  



	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which relationships are forged.

Phoibe was sitting on the rail of the Adrestia, crunching at a carrot and kicking her heels as she watched Praxos and Basileos make light work of loading the wine casks onto a small wagon. A sturdy, shaggy little brown and white horse twitched its ears and waited patiently for them to be finished.

“You know,” Thyia came and leaned on the rails beside her, watching them tossing the weighty casks to each other. “Sometimes I think it’s a shame that men don’t get my blood racing. Seems a pity for this exhibition to be going to waste.”

“Who the fuck do those two think they’re impressing?” Gelon ambled up, drying her hands on her tunic. “They’re wasting their fucking time on Delos.”

“I think they’re just enjoying being strong.” Phoibe decided to save the rest of her carrot for the horse. “Are you coming with us?” She looked from one to the other.

“No, definitely not, youngster,” Gelon laughed. “Delos and I are not to each other's tastes.”

“Is it the swearing?”

“It’s not  _ always _ the fucking swearing you know. Sometimes people don’t like me for other reasons entirely!”

“Like what?” Phoibe gave her a quizzical look, nothing else leapt immediately to mind.

“All right, you win,” she shrugged. “This time it is the fucking swearing, mainly.”

“And you bust Odessa’s nose that one time,” Thyia reminded her.

“That was a sodding accident! She bent down at exactly the wrong moment. You know for a crafty little markswoman she’s a clumsy bugger at times. And if that surly bastard of a priest hadn’t been standing right there, which was _ very _ fucking suspicious if you ask me. Just loitering around watching women scrubbing the deck in their underwear. Kept his hands well down you remember, even when he was ranting his damn fool head off.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Phoibe was cramming the carrot into her pocket.

“She’s suggesting that he was aroused,” Thyia explained delicately.

“No, I got that!” She rolled her eyes. “What’s it got to do with not liking Delos?”

“Oh! No one’s told you?” Thyia raised her eyebrows. “Things are a bit… hmmm… how to put it…”

“Arse about fucking face,” Gelon supplied. “The whole fucking island is like some holy sanctuary. They don’t like blood being shed for any reason. Send their pregnant women over to fucking Mykonos to deliver, if you can believe that! No wonder that Rhea’s as good at her fucking job as she is. Poor overworked bugger must have delivered every baby on the Silver Islands for the last twenty years or something.”

“They don’t even let people die on here,” Thyia shook her head. “They have no healers. Well not officially at any rate. Theis won’t disembark here. She gets quite upset about it.”

“Aye, she’ll be down in her fucking cabin till we leave,” Gelon nodded. “And I can’t say I blame her, really. I’ll go and have a couple of cups with her later, keep her company.”

The last of the barrels had been wedged into place now and Basileos and Praxos slapped one another on the back before Praxos turned to Phoibe, grinning.

“But?” she said, quiet and perplexed. “I thought the woman we were going to see had cut off someone’s head?”

“Not personally perhaps?” Thyia suggested.

“And not on fucking Delos,” Gelon patted Phoibe on the back. “Avoid the priests, they're miserable bastards, every last one of them. You have fun, little one,” she winked.

“But _ Delos  _ fun.” Thyia kissed her cheek.

“It’s a good job Kyra’s not Archon on Delos then.” Phoibe scratched the back of her neck. “I don’t think Kassandra would have fitted in here so well.”

Thyia and Gelon exchanged a look and burst into laughter.

“The fucking rock would have sunk into the sea the minute she set foot on it,” Gelon wiped her eyes.

“It’s pretty though,” Thyia conceded.

“Aye, pretty fucking miserable,” Gelon muttered.

“Are you coming?” Praxos shouted up, holding out his arms.

“No bugger comes on Delos,” Gelon barked back. “They have sex in separate rooms.”  Praxos cleared his throat and nudged a look at Phoibe.  “Oh youngster here grew up under Kassandra’s wing,” Gelon ruffled her hair. “She’s a pretty good idea what’s going on.”

Phoibe was looking at Praxos. He was blushing but still had his arms held out and smiled at her when he caught her eye. “Do you trust me?” he tilted his head.

It was quite a drop, but then Praxos was a lot of man, Phoibe decided. She would trust Kassandra to catch her from here without a second thought. With a hand from Thyia she scrabbled to her feet, standing tall on the rail, feeling the slight sway of the ship under her feet, flexing and relaxing her knees to compensate for a moment as she gathered her breath.

“All right,” she nodded. “Don’t drop me.”

“I will come down there and break both of your fucking arms if you drop her,” Gelon warned. “And I won’t break the skin, so the priests won’t need to shit their pious selves.”

“I won’t drop you,” Praxos promised, taking a step closer. “Big jump now.”

Thudding against his chest was like hitting a warm yielding wall. He had her in his thick arms before she knew it, cradling her close and laughing his rumbling laugh. She could feel it vibrating through her own chest and giggled delightedly.

“You can jump like a hare, young Phoibe.” He popped her on the bench seat at the front of the cart. “Can you drive a wagon?” He climbed up beside her, making the whole cart sway and creak.

“A little donkey cart,” she said hesitantly. “Not as big as this.”

“Good enough,” he nodded. “Sit close beside me and I’ll help. It only gets tricky in one or two places. She’s a good little nag, she’ll heed you.” He placed the reins in her hands.

It took a bit of encouragement but the willing little horse put her back into it and soon they were plodding along at a steady pace. Once or twice Praxos drew them to a halt and stood Phoibe up on top of the wine casks as he pointed out things of interest.

“Are you allowed to sit on those lions? Probably not I don’t suppose eh?” she answered her own question as she dropped back down onto her seat. “I don’t suppose you can swim in the sacred lake either eh?” She looked up at him.

“There’s not a lot of frivolity on Delos,” he conceded. “They take their status as the birthplace of Artemis and Apollo very seriously.”

“They made him a shiny statue at least,” she shrugged. “That’s nice.”

“Wait till you see our Huntress,” he grinned. “Gazing out intently over the city, her bow drawn to protect us. She’s magnificent.”

“Is she shiny?” 

“Not exactly, no,” he shook his head. “She’s regal though! And huge!”

“You know,” Phoibe clucked her tongue and snapped the reins. “There’s something that doesn't make sense to me about this whole Delos thing. Selene told me the story about how Delos was the only island that would let Leto have her babies, and how Artemis helped her have Apollo and all that. But Gelon says they make pregnant women go to Mykonos in case something goes wrong. Should this not really be a good place to have a baby if two gods were born here? And if Artemis helped her mater have a baby, why do they not like healers? Don’t healers help women who are having babies? Is it because Mykonos is Artemis’ island? Are they really going to Artemis, not so much to Mykonos? But she helped her little brother be born on Delos so you’d think it would be all right. And it’s only just over the water so you’d think she’d be able to keep an eye on things, I mean she’s a god and everything. And don’t women who are having babies all over, pray to her? I don’t mean having them all over, I mean women all over, they all pray to Artemis no? Or am I not understanding? Maybe I’m not. Back home we prayed to Aphrodite mainly.”

Praxos was looking down at her with amusement, chuckling to himself. As she ran out of breath he laughed more openly and ruffled her hair with a massive hand. “Oh Phoibe!” he sounded delighted. “You remind me so much of my Kyra when she was your age. Uncle Praxos, what are clouds made of? Uncle Praxos, why is the sky red sometimes? Uncle Praxos how come the sea is salty? So many questions all the time. You’re very much alike in many ways you know?”

“Me and Kyra?” she cocked an eyebrow. “Kyra and me, I mean, Kyra and I?”

“Indeed,” he nodded. “Lively, intelligent, good hunters, full of questions!” He winked.

“Have you looked after her for a long time?” she asked carefully, watching as the horse flicked away a persistent fly.

“Oh, since she was about your age, a year or so younger maybe.”

“What happened, Praxos?” Phoibe kept her eyes on the horse’s swishing tail. “Kyra said that she lived with the Daughters Of Artemis when she was young, but that someone killed them. And Kassandra said not to ask her any questions about it because it was too upsetting. And I like Kyra now, I don’t want to upset her, but we didn’t have the Daughters of Artemis on Kephallonia, and sometimes you need to know what happened so you _ don’t  _ say the wrong thing and upset someone. And why did she live with them in the first place? What happened to her mater and pater? And how did you start to look after her?”

There was a weighty silence broken only by the crunch of the horse’s hooves on the gravel, the creak of the wagon and Praxos’ deep, slow breathing. At last Phoibe could bear it no longer.

“I’m sorry Praxos, I ask too many questions. I didn’t mean to upset you, I swear. Markos always says I talk too much.”

Praxos inhaled deeply. “This Markos sounds like a fool,” he declared. “It’s good to ask questions. Even if they’re questions that people don’t know the answers to yet. Perhaps it's especially important to ask those. Kyra never knew who her pater was. He was one of those useless, worthless men who put their child in a woman and then turn their backs. A disgrace. The Archon before Kyra was a disgrace as well.” 

He glanced down. Phoibe had settled back against the worn wood of the seat and was looking intently up at him.

“Perhaps I’d better take those?” he nodded at the reins. “Don’t want us walking into a fence eh?”

Phoibe willingly surrendered them and turned in her seat to face him. “The Archon?” she prompted hopefully, scenting a story.

“He was a wicked man. Not just a bad man. Not just mean or selfish. He was cruel and evil. He tortured and killed people for sport. It gave him pleasure. He stole people’s hard earned money, took their homes from them and then threw them in jail for being destitute. He was the sort of monster you read about in stories, but he looked like a man. Kyra’s mater? She -” he stopped for a few moments, pressing his lips firmly together to stop them trembling.

“Did he kill her? The wicked Archon?” Phoibe inched a little closer till her knee was just brushing against Praxos’ thigh, and tentatively reached out to place a hand on his brawny forearm. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet.

“Bandits killed my mater and pater,” Phoibe’s voice was just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the road. “I don’t remember much about it. It was at night and there was a storm. We were on the road, looking for somewhere to stay for the night. Then there was this flash of lightning and these men were just in the road. One minute the road was empty and then there was this big flash and it was like they just appeared. I was curled up in our cart, and all I remember is my mater telling me to run. She told me to run and run and not look back.”

Praxos gathered the reins in one hand and reached out with the other to take Phoibe’s. It felt tiny in his great paw, and he held it gently, nodding at her to continue.

“I ran a bit.” Her eyes were wide and fixed on some distant point in the past. “But then I climbed up a tree and hid. It was so dark, I couldn’t see where I was running, and I was scared I’d get lost. So I waited. I thought the men would just take our stuff. We didn’t have much. They took some of it anyway. But then…”

Praxos squeezed her hand softly, brushing his rough thumb over the back of her knuckles, saying nothing, waiting.

“I heard screaming. I thought it was mater at first. It was so high. But it wasn’t. Her screaming was different. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared they would come looking for me. But I don't think they even knew I was there. I don’t think they saw me run. I could hear them laughing and joking and smashing things up and then they went away. I stayed up the tree till the sun came up, till I thought it was safe. Then I went to see if I could help my mater and pater….But I couldn’t. They’d taken some stuff, but then they’d just trampled the rest in the mud, like they didn’t even really want it. I found my eagle. Mater gave her to me. She said that one day I would travel as far as an eagle and Chara was to remind me of her. But I can’t even remember what she looked like anymore. Does that make me a bad person Praxos?” She looked up with a hint of desperation in her eyes. “That I can’t remember my mater’s face?”

Praxos halted the cart and tied off the reins, He leaned over and effortlessly lifted Phoibe into his lap, wrapping her in an enormous hug.  “No,” his voice was quiet but firm as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “The only bad people in that story are those murdering bandits. Your mater and pater are safe here,” he tapped a finger to her chest.

“What happened to Kyra’s mater?” Phoibe leaned against the warm leather of his breastplate. It felt almost as safe in the cradle of his arms as in the comfort of Kassandra’s embrace.

“The Archon’s men burst into their home and slashed her to death in front of Kyra.”

“Did she run away too?”

“There was a brave woman who lived nearby,” he continued softly. “She saw what was happening and grabbed Kyra, ran for their lives. She took a horse and headed for the woods. A couple of the Archon’s men were chasing them. Who knows what would have happened if they hadn’t blundered into the Daughters Of Artemis’ hunting grounds. They shot one of the men and the other hightailed it out of there like the sniveling coward he was. The woman managed to persuade them to take Kyra. She knew the Archon would be furious. That he would look for the little girl just to teach her a lesson for escaping.”

“What happened to the woman?” Phoibe frowned.

“Nothing good, little hunter,” he shook his head. “The Daughters took Kyra back to camp. They were reluctant to take her in at first. Concerned that the Archon would come looking for her. But my sister begged and begged.”

“Your sister?” Phoibe sat upright. “Your sister is a Daughter Of Artemis?”

“ _ Was _ ,” he smiled sadly. “She was. No one but Kyra survived that night when the Archon sent his murderers. He’d bided his time. Let them think that he’d forgotten about them killing his man. Then he came for them. While they slept. Men I’d been in the army with. Men I’d thought were friends. They crept into a camp of sleeping women and butchered them in their tents. When I got there… there was nothing I could do. My big sister had looked after me all the time when I was just a little fellow, if you can imagine that?” He gave her a sad smile. “And in the end I couldn’t do anything to help her. The last thing she said to me was to find Kyra and look after her, to guard her with my life.”

“How did you find her?” Phoibe reached up and brushed a few tears from his beard. “If she’d run away. Did you track her?”

“It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “It took me a while. I found her stealing around the marketplace. Phillipa, my sister, had been given an amulet by our mater. I had a matching one from our pater. When she took Kyra under her wing, she gave her our mother’s amulet, to show that she would look after her, like a mother. I thought if I could get to Kyra, show her my amulet, she might recognise me as a friend. But I couldn’t get near to her for the longest time. And no wonder. She’d seen big ugly brutes like me butcher her mother and then her sisters. It took a long time. Like trying to tame a little wild animal.”

“But then she saw your pretty eyes?” Phoibe nodded. Seeing his startled expression she smiled. “You’re like Kassandra sort of. People look at her sometimes and think she’s a big, rough thug. Usually because she’s punched them through a gate or something. But they’ve always asked for it,” she defended. “But then when you get close enough, you see how kind her eyes are. Unless she’s about to kick you through a gate, I suppose.”

Praxos gave a little snort of laughter. “And how did she find you, little one?”

“I sort of found her. A couple of days later, some bandits, not even the same ones! There were a lot of bandits on Kephallonia till Kassandra sorted that out. They were roughing up some poor people at the lumber yard. Taking their wages, and their tools and kicking them about.” She avoided his eyes, blushing. 

“What is it?” he raised her chin gently.

“I was there because I was going to steal too,” she admitted. “They kept all their food in this one tent and I was so hungry. I couldn’t hunt back then. I was just going to take some bread and cheese. Then these bandits came in shouting and jeering and swearing, they punched an old man in the head. It was just like when… when the other gang…” She swallowed hard. “Then, suddenly, this big tall woman came just… swaggering into the yard. She didn’t even sneak in or anything. She had armour on and… well I know it wasn’t fancy armour now, but it seemed like it at the time. She just walked right in, all shoulders and hips, like she wasn’t even scared of them. She kicked one man right over a log pile. I mean _ right _ over. He didn’t even touch it. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And I thought. If she’d been there the other night, my mater and pater would still be alive.”

Praxos heaved a deep sigh and hugged her close. “Was that when she found you then, little one?” His beard tickled her forehead as he looked down at her.

“No, not for a few days. She was beautiful, but sort of scary, but… fascinating too. Does that make sense?”

“More than you realise,” he nodded.

“Like a leopard or something,” she frowned. “So I followed her around for a while. If you’re a little kid and you don’t get under grown ups’ feet, a lot of them just don’t notice you. One day I followed her to the beach, with a…” she paused awkwardly. “This was ages ago, so don’t tell Kyra, please?”

“I promise,” he nodded solemnly.

“She was going to the beach with a girlfriend, they were going to have a picnic, and now I think they were probably going to do some other things as well, but she was so… gentle with her… I’d seen her kick a man over a log pile and now she was being so gentle.”

“So _ you  _ chose  _ her _ ?” Praxos smiled. “That was very smart of you.”

“That’s something else I have in common with Kyra then,” she nodded.

“Phoibe?” His huge hands swallowed her shoulders as he held her back a little and looked right into her eyes. “You will always be safe here with us. Even if Kassandra isn’t around, like today. Kyra will protect you. And I will guard you with my life, I promise.”

They looked at each other for a few moments, the horse shuffling patiently, bird song filling the air, the sun hot on their shoulders. At last Phoibe smiled and nodded, reaching out to loop her arms about his muscular neck.

“Thank you, Praxos.”

“Not at all, little hunter,” he patted her back. “I’ve missed having a smart little girl bending my ear with questions I don’t know the answers to,” he laughed. “Now. We should get this wine back to its owner. We don’t want the Archon thinking we’ve been slacking eh?”

  
  
  


“Isn’t there anything you can do for them?” Kyra leaned back against the sun warmed wall of the house they’d just visited. The smell of the sick room still filled her nose and mouth, and she thought it would for the rest of the day.  During her time with the rebellion she had seen some terrible things. Some of them were terrible things she’d created herself. She’d become inured to gaping wounds and mangled corpses, to the stench of shit and rot, had begun to think herself immune to horror. But the visits they had made this afternoon had rattled her.  The two dying men in particular would haunt her. By now all they were capable of doing was rolling their tormented eyes as they made weak animal grunts. It was impossible to know if they were trying to communicate or if the sounds were solely an expression of suffering. 

Cold beads of sweat gathered between her shoulder blades before trickling down to the small of her back. Perhaps it was that light tickling that made her shiver, she consoled herself.

Kassandra was pacing briskly back and forth, hands on her hips, head lowered, focused on her feet. “How long do you reckon they have, Rhea?” 

“Well, to answer the first question first, I’m doing everything I can. And the gods know it isn’t much. I’ve tried but… there’s nothing Kyra,” she looked at her sadly. “And no one is more sorry than me about that. All I can do is drip milk of poppy into them, and hope they’ll pass peacefully. To answer you, Kassandra? No more than a day, two at most. I can barely get water into them. If they don’t just stop breathing, they’ll die of thirst.”

“And the others?” Kyra took a deep breath and stood up straight. They were safely out of sight around the back of the last house, but it would be as well to regain her composure now before they had to make their way back to the villa.

“Bad, but not as bad.” Rhea rubbed her back wearily. She looked exhausted, Kassandra thought.

“Would it help you if I asked Theis to come and assist you?” she touched Rhea’s arm gently, taking in the dark shadows under her eyes. “My ship’s healer,” she elaborated.

“You’ll be no use to anyone soon,” Kyra agreed. “You need to get some rest.”

“Who heals the healer?” Rhea laughed bitterly.

“Well in this case, another healer,” Kassandra decided. “The Adrestia is over by Delos but they’ll be back tonight. Theis is a good healer, well traveled. Who knows, she may even have seen similar things before.”

“I’ll be glad of her help,” Rhea nodded. “One set of increasingly elderly hands just aren’t enough. Nike is a huge help of course, but she has business of her own to conduct, and when it boils right down to it, she’s not a healer, more’s the pity. I’ll go to your ship when she docks, talk with your Theis, if that’s all right?”

“Of course,” Kassandra nodded. “Do you want me to come with you? Introduce you?”

“Healers tend to recognise each other,” Rhea laughed and patted her arm. “We’ll get along just fine. Please tell me she’s younger than me?”

“A shade,” Kassandra replied gallantly. 

“Let Leto take you back home,” Kyra took her hands. “You look asleep on your feet.”

“Later, lovely,” Rhea patted her cheek. “Perhaps when I’ve had a talk with this Theis. Till then I need to be here, ready for the worst.”

“It won’t really be the worst though, will it?” Kassandra braced her hands on her hips and looked wearily skywards. “It’s the best thing that can happen to them now.”

Kyra had asked the men’s families if they wished for a priestess to visit. Both had accepted the offer gratefully. Leaving Rhea to her mournful work, they made their way back to the villa, via the temple.

On reaching the huge, painted wooden building, Kassandra found that she had no desire to enter. Kyra would be safe enough with Leto, even though the temple seemed to be busier than she generally saw it. It would be exceedingly unlikely that anyone would be rash enough to attempt to shed blood on the temple grounds, within eyeline of the majestic Artemis Agratora herself.

Nothing like the fear of impending death, painful and undignified, to help people find religion she smiled bitterly, taking a seat on a low wall. It afforded her an unrestricted view of the nearest entrance and if she leaned forward she could even glimpse the statue inside. She could make out a cluster of citizens prostrating themselves at the feet of the proudly striding huntress and if she breathed deep, the spicy scent of incense tickled her nostrils.

She took another grateful breath, eager to chase away the lingering stink of shit and vomit and stale, poisoned sweat. Kassandra didn’t think for a moment that the hand of the goddess was at play in the current crisis; but all the same. She scowled at the statue. She was too far away to make out its features but she’d seen enough of them to be able to imagine the virgin huntress’ stern, lovely face, her eyes fixed on some imaginary prey off in the distance.

In all the time that Kassandra had known her, Kyra had been devout in her observances to Artemis. She attended temple regularly, gave a portion of what she earned as Archon to its maintenance. Kassandra had never seen her bring down so much as a rabbit without offering a reverent prayer of thanks over its carcass. Every hunt was preceded by respectful ceremony. In fact the first time they had hunted together Kassandra had found Kyra supplicating herself at the goddess’ altar, even though it turned out that she had her eyes on much larger, two legged prey.

Was that it then? She watched a fat brown rat emerge from the grass by her feet and halt, staring up at her with black bead eyes for a moment, before turning and racing off across the path, disappearing into the shadows at the base of the temple wall. Was it Kassandra’s presence staying the goddess’ hand?  Whilst Kassandra didn’t think for a moment that Artemis was actively involved in distributing dirty pictures and poisoning fish, she certainly wasn’t stepping in to defend a woman who had only ever shown her respect and devotion.

“An obol for them?” Leto’s voice made her jump. That had been foolish. Her shadow was right across Kassandra’s feet, but she had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t even heard her approach.

“Not even worth that.” She sat up and patted the warm stone beside her. “I take it that Kyra is somewhere secure?”

“Of course, Misthios.” Leto removed her helmet and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand.

The visits to the victims had worn on and on, and the day was hot. Families had been so distracted by caring for loved ones that few had thought to offer water, either for washing or drinking. The sun was beginning to set now and it would soon be more pleasant, if they weren’t sitting here in heavy armour, their underwear soaked with sweat, dust caking their legs.

“She’s with the senior priestesses, in their chambers, arranging visits and sacrifices. I am apparently too grubby and smelly for admittance.”

“Why don’t you go home, Leto?” Kassandra braced her arms on the wall and looked up at the cloudless sky. “We’ll be returning directly to the villa. I’ll protect Kyra.”

“I know you will,” Leto smiled. “Better than I could. But I’m going back to the guard quarters anyway. It’s Evios’ week to cook. Better than sitting at home eating bread and cheese. If I’m going that way, I may as well complete my duty.”

They sat quietly for a while, the silence broken only by the buzzing and chirruping of insects and the plaintive prayers of the supplicants in the temple.

“I can’t help thinking that this is all my fault somehow,” Kassandra said at last, observing how far the shadows had crept across the path.

“Did you poison the fish, Misthios?” Leto asked dryly, concentrating on grooming the horsehair crest of her helmet. “A dirty trick!”

Kassandra gave a humourless snort. “No, but it seems I’ve poisoned people’s minds.”

“ _ Some _ people’s,” corrected Leto. “But if you think that the same filthy gossip wouldn’t be circulating if that young general had ended up sharing the Archon’s bed then you’re a fool. And I don’t take you for a fool. With respect,” she finished dryly.

“I’m not sure that Praxos shares your generous opinion of me. And we were just becoming friends,” Kassandra thought back to the merry evening’s at Mikis’ with him and Nike. Was that to be another casualty of this?

“Praxos is an overprotective papa.” Leto shook her head. “He always has been. It's understandable, no? Imagine if you thought that someone wanted to harm your Phoibe?” she suggested, her voice gentle.

“That’s a bit different,” Kassandra worked to swallow the prickly edge she could feel creeping into her voice.

“If you’re going to tell me that Phoibe has a family back on Kephallonia and that you’re not her -” Leto thought better of whatever she’d been about to say. “You just went to an awful lot of trouble to go and fetch the child. You even persuaded the Archon away from her duties. I can’t remember her ever taking more than a day away before.”

“Yes, and look how well that turned out!” Kassandra muttered bitterly.

Leto gave her crest a final, unnecessary tweak before setting her helmet beside her on the wall. “May I speak to you… warrior to warrior? Woman to woman, for a moment?”

“I thought we already were.” Kassandra laughed wryly. “Are you going to remind me how much suffering I’ve brought into Kyra’s life? How I’ve trailed it in like goatshit on my boots? Tell me to tighten my bracers and sort it out.”

“I clearly don’t need to,” Leto narrowed her eyes playfully.

They were very grey Kassandra realised, and rather pretty. It was a mercy they’d been left uninjured. Those eyes and that smile quite took your mind off the twisted scars across her cheek and jaw.

“Hand on heart Kassandra. I’ve known Kyra since she was, oh, probably about Phoibe’s age. And yes, in all that time I don’t think I’d ever heard her weep as bitterly as she did at times after you first appeared. And this was a woman with much to weep about. Angry tears. Tears of grief. Heartbroken tears. If you had been rash enough to come back then? Well I think Praxos would have pounded you into a paste and fed you to the sharks. And most of us wouldn’t have blamed him, much less tried to stop him.” She leaned back on her hands and stretched out her sun-bronzed legs, crossing her ankles.

“When they first turned up together. That great shaved bear of a man and that scrawny little girl. They made such a funny couple. Praxos, well we could understand his value, the man is like a wall in battle, nothing gets through him. But then we saw Kyra with a bow in her hands! Gods! It was breathtaking. It was impossible _ not  _ to see Artemis’ hand on her shoulder. Impossible not to believe that she’d been sent by the goddess to help us rid the Islands of Podarkes. To avenge the massacre of her worshipers. She was like a divine gift to us.”

“Do you still believe that?” Kassandra looked at her searchingly. “That Artemis has her hand on Kyra’s shoulder? Even now? After all we’ve seen today?”

There was a lengthy silence. Leto braced her legs and leaned forward, lacing her fingers together, hands between her knees, chewing her lip thoughtfully as she examined her knuckles.  “Me?” She said at last, raising her head and meeting Kassandra’s eyes. “Yes. Yes, I do. She’s sending her trials now, that for sure. But the gods seem fond of tormenting their favourites don’t you think? But yes, I do still believe that Kyra is beloved by Artemis. And I think she’s fond of you too, despite what people might be saying.”

Kassandra gave a dismissive snort and shook her head.

“No. Listen!” Leto leaned forward looking deep into her eyes and put a hand on her knee. “Perhaps the goddess likes you because you’re cocky, who knows? But what I do know is that when you left that first time? Kyra was like a fury. Raging and weeping. The second time? I think it was worse somehow. It was like the spirit had been knocked out of her for a while. That spark in her eyes? We didn’t see that anymore. But you came back this time, and I’m not going to lie to you, a lot of us who love Kyra were holding our breath. But I’ve never seen her happier, or heard her laugh more. She wasn’t a child much given to laughter. Me? I believe Artemis wants you to be together. She can be a stern goddess, we all know that. I think she’s sent all these trials your way so that you’d both eventually realise what you have between you. So that you’d appreciate it more because you’d had to fight so hard for it. The boar that nearly kills you tastes the sweetest, no?”

Kassandra held Leto’s gaze for a while before nodding solemnly.

“I’ll tell you something else though,” Leto lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Someone on these Islands is taking the goddess’ name in vain to try and depose the Archon, and we need to find out who it is my friend, and quickly!”


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are unexpected consequences.

It was dark by the time the Adrestia docked and when Praxos made his way up to the helm he found Gelon standing with her arms folded, a soft expression on her face.

“Don’t fucking wake her,” she whispered, “she’s totally knackered.”

Phoibe was curled up on the bench, a cushion beneath her head, breathing slowly, just this side of a snore. She was wearing a warm, dark brown woolen chlamys, fastened with a brooch in the shape of a crow that he was confident was made of solid silver.

Both had been pressed upon her by Korax who had taken an instant liking to Phoibe and had insisted on being called grandmater, before spending much of the day plying her with sweet treats. Phoibe had been very reluctant to accept either gift. It turned out that Kassandra had imprinted on her the importance of paying for things that were given to you whenever possible, either in coin or in kind. 

It struck him as out of character at first. He could distinctly remember Kassandra merrily looting her way through encampments during the rebellion. She’d had to make more than one trip back to the fort to collect everything that had caught her eye. But as he watched Korax persuade Phoibe that friends gave each other gifts all the time, and they were friends now, and anyway surely she had a birthday coming, or one had just passed, and the evening might be cold, he recalled that a lot of that loot had found its way into the pockets of the injured and hungry.

“You’re a big bear of a bugger, carry her eh?” Gelon nudged his arm. “She’s had a lot to take in these past few days.”

She had indeed, he decided, bending to scoop her up. She seemed to weigh nothing in his arms, murmuring under her breath and snuggling against his chest without waking.

“There you go,” Gelon grinned. “You could carry her in one fucking hand couldn’t you?”

“Not quite,” he shook his head. “She’s a sturdy little thing.”

“Off you go then big lad,” she slapped his arm. “Don’t fucking drop her.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he smiled affably, setting off down the gangplank.

It reminded him of evenings carrying an exhausted young Kyra back from hunting, or lengthy roundabout evasions of Podarkes’ men. But tonight he didn’t have to skulk in the shadows, ears straining for the sounds of trackers or the baying of hounds. He could carry this child comfortably, cradled against his chest, walk in the circles of lamp light without fear. He was carrying her home to a securely guarded building, a warm bed with soft covers, and the certainty of a good breakfast in the morning. 

He would take her hunting as soon as he could, he decided. It would be fun to watch another youngster learn to track, to see her skills improve as she grew taller and stronger. And fishing. He liked to fish, although he wasn’t particularly good at it. Phoibe had assured him that she was, and she would be happy to teach him. Kassandra apparently was as incredibly skilled at fishing as she was at everything else in the girl’s eyes. He laughed to himself, thinking of Phoibe’s excited bouncing on the wagon seat on the way back as she recounted adventures growing up with Kassandra.

Some of them, he suspected, might need a little creative editing before they were shared with Kyra, but gods the child so clearly adored her. He had tried to work out their ages as she chattered excitedly. Eventually he’d decided that when she’d lured the traumatized little girl out of her cave, Kassandra couldn’t have been any older than he had been when he’d raged into that filthy alley and crushed the throat of the lecherous beast who had been dragging a struggling Kyra behind him.

In some ways, of course, they were very different. Kassandra had infuriated him with her glib dismissal of those filthy pictures the other morning. He had been astounded at how she could be so utterly blase about them. But today Phoibe had regaled him with enough vaguely salacious anecdotes about their growing up together that he was beginning to understand her attitude. And when it came down to it he thought, glancing down at Phoibe’s sleeping face as the evening breeze blew a few strands of hair across her cheek, when it_ really _came down to it, you could count on Kassandra it seemed.

“And what have you caught there?” A familiar sultry voice made him look up. “You’ve not been fishing for sea nymphs have you? We’re not supposed to be taking anything from the ocean right now.”

Nike had been enjoying the night air by Mikis’ door. It had been a long day and a muggy evening and the mood had been strange. Some patrons were understandably subdued, sitting morosely nursing their drinks. Others had been weirdly over cheerful, too loud, too handsy with the younger women. Mikis had thrown out a couple, which didn’t happen that often. People were rattled.

She made her way over to Praxos and looked down at the slumbering child in his arms. “So, this is the famous Phoibe?” She lowered her voice and gently brushed the loose hair back from her face. “What have you two been up to?”

Praxos quickly related the day’s events. As he finished, Phoibe shifted in his arms, disturbed either by the voices or the fact that he’d stopped walking. She rubbed her eyes drowsily and peered through the twilight at the stranger alongside him.

“Kyra?” she mumbled, puzzled and far from awake.

“No sweetheart,” Nike took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “But you’re just as clever as Kassandra said you were, it seems. My name is Nike.”

Phoibe was sinking into sleep again. “Victory,” she said to herself.

“On my good nights, yes,” she stroked Phoibe’s hair, “I hope we get to meet again when you’re less sleepy, my dear.” She gave Praxos a fond smile. “Once again you have a sharp minded little girl to look after.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “I’m a lucky man to get a second chance like this.”

“You certainly are.” She stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently. “And she’s a lucky girl. And very tired too. You need to get her home to bed.”

As he passed the guard house Praxos could hear voices raised in song. He’d assumed it would be something lewd, but as they drew closer he recognised a gentle melody about lost love. Everyone was in an odd mood tonight it seemed.

Making his way through the courtyard, nodding at the men on night patrol, he found himself thinking back to the song. Kyra was lucky that her lost love had returned at last, even mulish and infuriating as she could be at times. Perhaps it was those very qualities that had ensured Kassandra wouldn’t take no for an answer, that had kept washing her up on the shores of Mykonos? 

Orion was sitting at the foot of the stairs, his hock beating out a tattoo on the stone floor as he enthusiastically scratched the back of his neck.

“Have you been out in that long grass again?” Praxos smiled as the dog got wearily to his feet and rubbed his great head against his leg. “Your mater will be saying you need a bath again.” His quiet whimper and lowered ears told Praxos that he’d understood every word. “I won’t tell her, if you stop scratching,” he laughed. “Go to Phoibe’s room, quick now, good boy.” 

Praxos followed him up a good deal more sedately, stopping at the main private room to see if Kassandra and Kyra were still up. The lamps had been extinguished and the balcony doors closed, so he assumed they’d retired to bed. He’d no intention of disturbing them. Not just because he had no idea what they might be up to, but because he suspected that Kyra would have had a grim day. Whether it was Hypnos or Eros that had claimed her, he’d no wish to interrupt. Tomorrow was soon enough for her to face her duties again. He’d take Phoibe up to bed. Once her new chlamys was off, the tunic she wore was fine to sleep in. Especially with Orion acting as a comforter.

With this occupying his mind he was startled to encounter Kassandra on her way up to the bedrooms. She looked equally shocked and was equally burdened, Kyra fast asleep in her arms. They were both swathed in towels, suggesting they were on their way from the bathroom. It was a little awkward, but could have been much worse, he reflected. Towels were not a given with Kassandra at all.

She recovered her composure first and gave him a wink. “Want to swap?” she nodded towards Phoibe. “Yours is much lighter.”

There she went again, he thought, it was like she couldn’t be serious for five minutes together sometimes. But he was wise to her now. He swallowed a smile and looked closely at her face, warmly illuminated by the lamplight. For all her broad wink and jocular tone, he saw how she looked at Phoibe, sound asleep in his arms. He could see that tenderness that Phoibe had identified, that Kassandra seemed so eager to hide with most people.

“Did she have a good day?” she asked, her voice low now. “That’s a new shawl, isn’t it?” she frowned and looked up at him.

“She had a splendid day. Got herself adopted by a new grandmother, hence the present. Ate her own body weight in pastries, chased Korax’s dogs around the vineyard... told me some fascinating stories about her childhood,” he added teasingly.

Kassandra met his eyes, looking a little taken aback. “Did she?” He saw her lick her lips. “Well, bear in mind that Phoibe learned all her storytelling skills from Markos and Barnabas and they both dearly love to embroider.”

“Well, I don’t know Markos,” he shrugged. “But he sounds like a jackass, to put it kindly. Barnabas however I do know, and while he might... exaggerate for the sake of entertainment, there’s always a skeleton of truth beneath the flashy clothing don’t you think?”

“I... hadn’t really thought of it like that,” she shifted Kyra a little to hold her more comfortably. “I suppose you’re right. I wasn’t suggesting that he lies... just that he... sometimes makes stories a bit more colourful, and Phoibe is good at that too.”

“She’s certainly very entertaining company, I’ll say that,” he gave her a satisfied smile. “The ride to the vineyard and back just flew by.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Though... the tales she was telling? I was a much younger person then, Praxos.” She looked relieved when Kyra mumbled and moved in her arms. “We should get to bed. She fell asleep in the bath. It was a bit of a day, as I’m sure you’ll discover in the morning. And Zeus knows we don’t want these towels slipping and ruining your evening,” she mustered a playful grin. 

“No of course not. I’ll tuck Phoibe in if that’s all right? Orion’s already waiting for her.” He watched as she nodded, hefted Kyra a little higher in her arms and made for the bedroom. As she nudged open the door with her elbow he called out her name and she turned to look at him, her expression curious.

Now that he’d started, he felt awkward, suddenly embarrassed by what he wanted to say. He’d almost settled on brushing it off as a simple “good night” when Phoibe murmured and shifted in his arms, reaching out and clasping the dangling ties from the shoulder of his breastplate. A faint scent of sun warmed lavender reached him and he swallowed hard.

“I just wanted to say,” he shuffled his feet, looking down at Phoibe, at the thick dark eyelashes brushing her cheek, the constellation of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “Thank you for bringing Phoibe here. We didn’t have much time for... well, fun and relaxation when Kyra was her age, always on the run, constantly on edge. It was... well I had a nice day today.”

Kassandra looked as embarrassed as he felt. “She likes you Praxos. But then you’re a likeable fellow, most of the time,” she gave him a lopsided grin. 

“Not always though eh?” he conceded. “I know I was irritated with you yesterday. You didn’t seem upset enough about those pictures. I thought you should have been angry. But you know what? When I went to bed last night, I lay awake for a while thinking about it,” he half expected Kassandra to make some impudent joke but she was listening intently. “While I was blustering, you were the one who saw how upset and humiliated Kyra was. I was ranting and raging and you went right to her, never flinched, didn’t draw back. You knelt at her feet and told her you would be at her side for every step. You saw the woman behind the Archon, and how important she is, just like I asked you to. You are the person she needs Kassandra, I see that now. I thought back to,” he lowered his voice carefully, “to Thaletas. Tried to imagine how he would have behaved in that situation. I tried to imagine him striding alongside her to the dock this morning, head held high. And I couldn’t picture it.” He took a breath and held Phoibe closer. “I’m glad you’re home Kassandra.” He gave a brusque nod and strode off towards Phoibe’s bedroom.

That had been unexpected Kassandra thought, going into the bedroom and quietly closing the door behind her. But at least it had been unexpected in a pleasant, if awkward way, unlike the majority of the other surprises she’d received recently. She was rather glad that he hadn’t expounded at further length though, she decided as she lowered Kyra to the bed and fumbled to remove the damp towel. He’d had a big advantage standing out there, she stretched her back wearily as she tossed the towel into the laundry. Phoibe was a third of Kyra’s size and he was nearly twice the size of Kassandra.

Kyra showed no sign of waking she was relieved to see. It had been a grim day, and she suspected that tomorrow was going to be grimmer still. Tucking her in she realised that she wasn’t quite ready for bed herself just yet. Pouring a cup of wine she strolled out onto the balcony and leaned on the balustrade, sipping thoughtfully and peering out at the flickering lights of the city.

What was going on? The ship sinking, well that was sheer bad luck, it happened all the time and most people paid it no mind until a vessel bearing a loved one was lost. The bad fish? She had heard of similar things on her travels although this was the first time she’d encountered it personally. It was awful, but natural nonetheless. She cast her mind back to the silo fires. There was something potentially suspicious about them, but that had been a while back. 

Refilling her cup she frowned thoughtfully. Had it really been so long though? She made her way back onto the balcony and took a seat, propping her feet up on the balustrade, brows furrowed as she tried to work out just how long ago the fires really were. So much had happened in the meantime that they seemed a more distant event than they actually were, she decided. All the same, it would be a curious act of sabotage no? To cause some property damage, but then make no immediate political capital from it?

The pictures however? They were a definite attempt to destabilize. And worse than that, from Kassandra’s point of view, they had wounded Kyra on a deep personal level. Their appearance might have been opportunistic, an idea born from a run of natural bad luck, but someone had arranged them. Someone had sat down and spent hours upon hours drawing the damn things, distributing them. One person? A group? Whichever, they were out there right now, she scowled into the darkness. Plotting who knew what. And when she got her hands on them, they wouldn't be drawing anything else for a very long time indeed.

It was barely light when Kyra woke, a gasp caught in her throat, sweat beading on her brow. An awful dream had roused her. Awful but perfectly predictable. Finding herself naked in the temple, before a crowd gathered for the funeral rites of the poisoned men, jeers and laughter ringing in her ears.

She rolled onto her back and covered her face with her hands for a few moments, breathing deep and steady, till her heartbeat slowed. Feeling calmer, she looked about her. Something had struck her as odd when she woke, and now she realised what it was. She was lying on Kassandra’s side of the bed. How had she even got to bed last night? 

On their return from the city Kassandra had tried to persuade her to eat something. She remembered taking a little just to please her, but it had been dry and tasteless in her mouth. A bath had been arranged and she’d been grateful for that, feeling that she’d trailed the smell of dust and sickness back with her. Kassandra had climbed in behind her, but rather out of character, had made no attempt to do anything other than wash Kyra’s hair and scrub her back, before... yes, she must have fallen asleep in the bath. Kassandra had put her to bed without waking her.

Kyra rolled onto her side. There she was, breathing steadily, her back towards Kyra, her hair loose on the pillow. She inched closer carefully, not wanting to wake her. Not many people got to see the legendary Misthios sleepy and vulnerable like this, she smiled, burying her face in the scented waves of Kassandra’s hair, and slipping an arm about her waist. She gave a little mumble under her breath, nothing Kyra could make out, and wriggled back against her. She smelt of the fragrant oil that had been in the bath, and beneath that the unmistakable, indefinable scent of Kassandra. Kyra pressed featherlight kisses to her back and shoulders, breathing her in, relishing the softness of her hair beneath her cheek.

If only she could go back to sleep like this, with Kassandra solid and warm in her arms. She would give anything if this could all have been a terrible dream. If they could just wake to a totally normal morning. To Kassandra rousing her with kisses and caresses that more often than not would blossom into playful, early morning sex. She’d even be glad of one of Savina’s ill-timed appearances to remind her of the tedious routine of paperwork and meetings that awaited her. She would never again complain of Aegeus’ mind numbing account reports. If only things could go back to normal, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Kassandra’s back.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Kyra had obviously pressed her head hard enough between Kassandra’s shoulder blades to wake her. It hadn’t been a conscious action she told herself, but all the same she was glad to hear her voice, husky with sleep, to feel her shifting onto her back and sliding an arm around her.

“It’s still very early. Are you all right?”

She felt the brush of Kassandra’s lips against her forehead as she pondered what her answer should be. Obviously she wasn’t all right. She wasn’t sure she’d be all right again, any time soon. It was as though Kassandra had seen into her thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” she held her a little closer. “That was a stupid question. Of course you aren’t all right. Give me a few minutes, I’ll improve.” Kyra could hear the smile in her voice.

“Did Phoibe and Praxos get back all right, do you know?” she tried for a change of tack, to see if that would provide a path out of the melancholy she could feel gripping her.

“Perfectly well,” Kassandra rolled over, all the better to wrap Kyra in her arms. “Korax seems to have adopted Phoibe. And if I’m right I think Praxos might have done as well.”

“I knew he would,” Kyra snuggled in tighter. Kassandra felt so warm and safe. And if she was honest, the softness of her hair, the strength of her arms, the heat of her sex against Kyra’s hip, her low sleepy voice, it was all working to rouse a familiar hunger in her. Familiar and welcome. This would be something normal, unchanged in the face of all this chaos and crisis. Kyra nuzzled into the crook of Kassandra’s neck, kissing lightly. She succeeded in provoking a low chuckle.

“I was going to ask if there was anything I could do for you,” there was laughter in her voice. “But, hand on heart, I was thinking about whether you wanted me to go and find you some breakfast, you really didn’t eat much yesterday. I worry about you.”

“I’m not hungry.” Kyra turned in her arms, wriggling back against her, sighing at the welcome familiarity of Kassandra against her back, the soft pressure of her breasts, the warmth of her breath against her neck.

“Are you sure?” Kassandra snaked her arms around her, laughing as Kyra whimpered and pressed back, pushing her ass into her crotch with no attempt at subtlety. “You feel like you might have a little bit of an appetite?” she nipped lightly at her shoulder, triggering a full body shiver.

“You’re right.” Kyra grabbed her arms, hugged them more tightly about herself. “I’m starving. But I don’t want any breakfast just yet.”

Kassandra laughed delightedly and peppered the back of her neck with kisses, before pausing for a moment. Kyra turned her head as far as she comfortably could, but Kassandra still had to raise her shoulders and look over to meet her eyes. She was smiling, but there was concern on her face. “You’re sure about this?”

“What?” Kyra frowned. “Of course. Absolutely. Please, Kassandra?” She caught one of her hands and began to guide it down the planes of her belly and hips, inching closer to where she really wanted to feel her fingers.

“You don’t need to plead.” Kassandra craned her neck forward to kiss her. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“Slide your hand down a few more inches and you’ll be completely certain,” Kyra whispered.

“Calm down, impatient one,” Kassandra grinned and shifted back. “It’s very early, no need to rush.” She began to trace the muscles of Kyra’s back and shoulders with her lips, gently but insistently easing her hand from her grasp to stroke her thighs with long slow passes, wriggling down the bed so that she could reach from Kyra’s knees up to her hips.

It wasn’t the quick race for release that Kyra had tried to initiate, it was much, much better, she decided, relaxing against the pillows and feeling Kassandra’s kisses trail down her spine towards the small of her back. It was hard to know where to concentrate, the warm wet tip of her tongue teasing along each vertebra or the firm slow pressure of her hand massaging her thigh and hip. Before too long she was moaning with pleasure, rocking back against Kassandra, gasping at the pressure of her breasts against her ass.

“I need another pair of hands here,” she growled, catching one of Kyra’s and pushing it up till she was cupping her own breast. “Help me out, my love.” Kassandra guided her fingers, encouraging her to tease at her stiffening nipple. Feeling Kyra’s other hand joining in she laughed softly, her breath warm against her thigh. “Gods, love,” she murmured, nosing across the crest of her hip, “you feel so good. And you smell,” she took an enthusiastic breath, “delicious.”

Kyra was thinking of nothing now, but the hot wet flat of Kassandra’s tongue snaking across her ass, her hand teasing a winding path up the outside of her thigh, playfully inching a little closer to her sex on every pass, only to swerve away at the last moment until she was moaning and chasing after it with her hips, whimpering in frustration as each thrust pulled her away from Kassandra’s laughing mouth.

“So impatient,” she growled, biting softly at the muscle of Kyra’s ass.

“Only because you’re teasing!” She made a grab for Kassandra's hand, only to have her snatch it away and slip it between Kyra's thighs from behind. She heard the sharp delighted gasp Kassandra gave as she encountered the slick of arousal painted there.

“Oh, my love.” She shuffled down further to kiss up along the backs of her thighs, lingering where the swell of her buttocks began. “I’m sorry,” she nipped playfully, making Kyra jerk up against her mouth. “No more teasing. Let me get down to business.”

Kyra was surprised when Kassandra moved away from her and she moaned at the loss of contact, but before she could wonder what was happening she found herself effortlessly flipped onto her stomach. The bed shifted as Kassandra scrambled to her knees and kissed between Kyra’s shoulder blades. “I love you,” she murmured, nosing the soft waves of her hair away from her ear before reaching down and smoothly parting her legs to kneel between them. “I love you so very much.”

As she kissed her way down Kyra’s back she took a firm hold of her hips, lifting them off the bed, rubbing circles into the strong muscles there with slow strokes of her thumbs. It was a rhythm she could match Kyra thought, rocking her pelvis into the pressure. Suddenly Kassandra stopped, she could feel her sitting back on her heels now. Before she could even voice a complaint she felt her strong, calloused fingers feathering over the side of her body, down her ribs, across the crest of her hip, to the long muscles of her thigh.

“The light is hitting you just so.” Kassandra's voice was barely above a whisper as she followed the warm glaze of the morning sun with the tips of her fingers. “You look so beautiful. Gods Kyra, I want you so badly.” She could feel fingertips trembling against her skin.

“Take me then.” With her cheek resting on the pillow she could just see Kassandra out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t move for a moment, transfixed by the sight of Kyra laid out before her, but then she threw back her shoulders and gave a “yes” that was more of a grunt.

Strong hands hauled Kyra’s hips off the bed, dragging her up Kassandra’s thighs. Then she felt powerful fingers rake up her back till the flat of Kassandra's palm rested between her shoulders. “I wish I had the words to tell you just how glorious you look.” As her other hand caressed the curves of Kyra's buttocks, her voice was so low that Kyra wasn’t sure if she was supposed to have heard or not.

“Perhaps I can show you instead,” Kassandra growled, her breath rough and ragged as she leaned forward suddenly and slid her fingers in between Kyra’s thighs and into the slippery heat of her cunt. The snarl of pleasure she gave as she did so was almost animal and Kyra shuddered, not entirely with pleasure this time.

Unbidden, the leery growl of the drunks yesterday filled her ears.The last thing she wanted right now was to hear their boozy lechery, not when the woman she loved was murmuring words of worship as she inched deeper inside her. She was safe and warm in her own bed, sprawled across her lover’s thighs, a strong hand secure against her back, those remarkable fingers providing just the right pressure in just the right - _ Given her taste for Spartans, I’d wager our Archon has been- _page after page of those scandalous drawings flickered before her eyes, till they almost seemed to be moving, till she could see the thrusting hips, the inky leers. Which was worse? The elaborate depictions of acts they’d never committed? Or the gloating delineations of activities they performed out of love?

“Stop! No, Kassandra. Stop, please!” She found herself jerking away, dragging herself up the bed, though she didn’t need to. Kassandra had halted as though slapped, rocked back on her heels and was looking at her, startled.

“Kyra? What? I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” She looked horrified, holding out hands still wet with Kyra’s desire. “Love? I thought you -?”

“No...no, I’m sorry.” Kyra groped out for her, wrapping her arms around Kassandra’s neck. “I’m so sorry Kassandra, I don’t know what happened.” Kassandra laid her down, hugging her close and stroking her hair, waiting till she was calm enough to speak.

“One moment, oh gods,” Kyra gave a shuddering sigh. “One moment I was right here with you, and it felt so good, and I wanted you so very much, then suddenly. It was like being back at the docks yesterday. All I could hear was those filthy drunks, and those terrible pictures were just flickering in front of my eyes. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Kassandra kissed her head, though her face was less serene than her voice. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about. I think it's perfectly understandable. A lot has happened over the last couple of days. We should have made time to talk about it, about how you felt. I’m sorry. I didn’t think and -”

She was interrupted by the sound of racing footsteps outside, followed by excited barking from Orion. Savina’s voice calling “no!” in more urgent tones than either of them had ever heard brought up the rear, but she was too late. The door burst open and Aegeus rushed in, face pale and eyes wide. 

“Oh Archon!” he seemed oblivious to the fact that she was naked in Kassandra’s arms. “Woe and lamentations.”

“What the hell Aegeus!” Kassandra barked almost as loudly as Orion who was dancing excitedly around his feet, recognizing heightened emotion but not which one. She pulled up the covers and tucked them carefully around Kyra as Savina skidded to a halt behind Aegeus, her face a picture of dismay.

“I am so sorry, Archon, Misthios,” she nodded. “For the love of Artemis, Aegeus, get out of here, it’s nothing that can’t wait, Orion, get down, good boy!”

“Can’t wait?” he threw up his hands. “Why, the terrible Keres themselves have stalked the streets of Mykonos under cover of darkness. Woe and lamentations” he shook his head.

“Surely it is more likely to have been a visit from merciful Thanatos,” Savina had hold of his sleeve and was making a valiant attempt to drag him towards the door. Seeing the beginnings of a wonderful game, Orion grabbed a mouthful of the hem of his long chiton and began to pull, growling playfully. “The poor men suffered so, it was surely a mercy!”

“The dark shadow of death? A mercy?” he protested. “When all eyes are upon our beloved Archon, the miserable fingers of suspicion pointing -”

“Aegeus, if you do not get out of this bedroom right now, I will come over there and put you out myself, I swear!” Kassandra was halfway out of the bed before Kyra could grab hold of her arm and haul her back down.

“Don’t, please love,” she whispered. “I have it. Aegeus, before you leave,” she steadied her chin and raised her voice, “as I insist you do, within moments. The deaths? Am I to assume?”

“The two unfortunate consumers of the afflicted fish, Archon,” Aegeus knotted his fingers at his chest. “Even now they board the ferry, grim faced Charon, his bony palm extended for -”

“Aegeus! For fuck’s sake!” Kassandra snapped.

“Language, Kassandra,” came a sleepy voice from the doorway. Phoibe was standing there in her crumpled tunic, the dust from yesterday’s adventure still clinging to her feet. “I was going to ask if we could go hunting maybe this morning?” 

She looked at Kassandra, half naked and half out of bed, a thunderous scowl on her face, as Kyra clung to her arm with one hand, and clutched the covers to her neck with the other. Rubbing sleep from her eyes she allowed her puzzled gaze to drift from them to Aegeus, his hands clasped to his chest, Savina tugging on one sleeve, and Orion hauling on his skirts whilst wagging his tail madly.

“I’m going to guess... no?” She brushed her messy hair back from her brow and backed away from the door. “I’m... I’m just…” she pointed in the direction of the stairs. “Just going to go get some breakfast.”

  
  
  



	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe has her suspicions roused, and very nearly satisfied.

“I assure you that it is not like this here all the time,” Cymone mumbled around a length of cord as she helped Phoibe tidy her hair after breakfast. “Normally it runs like a well greased wheel. I’m not sure what’s got into everyone. There we go,” she patted her shoulder. “Pretty as a picture. Not that there isn’t drama of course, she’s the Archon of two busy islands. But she’s generally got a tight hand on the reins.”

“Is it my fault ?” Phoibe pushed the last scraps of her porridge around her dish.

“What?!” Cymone put down the bowl of eggs she’d been carrying, with rash emphasis. There were going to be a couple of cracked ones in there now, for sure, Phoibe thought. “Why ever would you say such a thing?”

“Well,” she chewed her lip thoughtfully. “You say everything is usually all smooth and quiet? But it hasn’t been since we got back. And I’m the only new thing. If something changes it’s usually because you’ve introduced a new…” she frowned, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “I can’t think of the word, but like when you try and put a new chicken in with old ones and they all go crazy for a bit.”

“The Archon is not a chicken and neither are you.” Cymone braced her hands on her hips. “None of this nonsense has anything to do with you Phoibe, and we are not having a day with you cooped up in here thinking like that. Everyone is going to be either out or stuck in that office today,” she dried her hands briskly. “They’re certainly not going to be sitting down to a meal till much later. Let’s go out eh? Get some fresh air and exercise, it will do us both good.”

“Are we allowed?” Phoibe asked warily.

“Allowed?!” Cymone was rummaging in the cupboard for a basket. “I’m the oldest person in this place, who's going to tell me I can’t go out for a bit of fresh air and a bite to eat?”

“The Archon?” Phoibe ventured.

“Aye, well, happen under normal circumstances,” she conceded. “But I don’t think for a minute that anyone is going to even notice I’m missing today. And we’ll leave a note. Write us a note young Phoibe, and whistle for that dog, we’ll take him with us. He’ll only be under the feet today, making people irritable.”

It took a while to pack a picnic, with suitable snacks for Orion. And for all her blustery dismissal of routine Cymone made sure that there was enough food prepared for the meals on the run that the household was likely to require that day.

By the time they set out, the sun was high. They passed a couple of guards on their way and explained what they were up to. The general opinion seemed to be that they were well out of things around the villa today.

Sitting near to the door in the kitchen, quietly eating grapes and keeping her ears open, Phoibe had managed to work out that something bad had happened, something that was going to require Kyra’s attention for a couple of days. She was already beginning to grasp that when Kyra’s presence was required out of the villa, Kassandra’s company was going to be needed too. Strain her ears as she might though, she’d not been able to glean any details. Cymone, she had learned already, had a somewhat looser tongue than many other members of the household.

By the time they reached the banks of a pretty, fast flowing stream they were all tired and hungry. Not least of all Orion who had spent the morning racing back and forth after a stubby piece of tree branch that Phoibe had found. As soon as he heard the running water he set off at a gallop, tongue lolling.

“Do not jump in that -” Cymone stopped as he splashed in up to his belly and began to lap thirstily.

“He needs a drink,” Phoibe shrugged. They were carrying the basket of food between them and the height difference had made for awkward progress. She would be glad of a drink herself.

“Well, you make sure he comes bouncing over to sit on _ your  _ knee,” Cymone eyed the banks for a suitable spot to set down their picnic.

An hour or so later, Orion was lying on his back in the grass, paws splayed, snoring like a beehive. Phoibe was feeling full and drowsy as she sat beside Cymone. They’d taken off their sandals and were trailing their feet in the cool water.

Phoibe had drunk only water, but she’d casually observed Cymone almost empty a small wine skin that she’d packed. She hadn’t seen how generously it had been diluted but from the smell and Cymone’s flushed cheeks, Phoibe suspected the answer was  _ not very _ .

“Those new sandals might be here by the time we get back,” Cymone had chosen a spot that provided her with a warm rock to lean back against. “Tomorrow at the latest. Things tend to get done quickly for the Archon.”

“Are people scared of her?” Phoibe had collected a handful of small pebbles and was tossing them into the water, enjoying the satisfying plop each one made.

“Scared?” Cymone gave it some quiet consideration. “Aye, I suppose there’s plenty who are, but only the ones who need to be. There’s more that love her than fear her. And there’s clearly a few who ought to fear her as don’t!”

“Really?” Phoibe said, plucking a grass stem from the water’s edge.

“Yes, I’d have liked to see someone dropping dirty pictures of the last Archon all over the place.” Cymone had her hands folded across her stomach as her eyelids drooped. “Not that anyone would have wanted to see them mind you. The man had a face like a blind cobbler’s thumb.” A fly buzzed around her head and she wafted a drowsy hand in its direction. “Or perhaps I’m being unfair. I may be imagining he was ugly on the outside because he was ugly on the inside. You start to forget after a while.”

Phoibe chewed thoughtfully. That was a curious line of conversation Cymone had cast, clearly there was more going on in Mykonos than just bad fish.  “What happened today Cymone?” She kept her voice light. “I know Aegeus was upset, and Kyra and Kassandra are going to be busy all day, but I didn’t want to get under the feet, asking questions.”

“You’ll soon come to learn that Aegeus is upset more often than he’s not,” she gave a brief humourless laugh. “It doesn’t take much.”

“He’s highly strung, yes?”

Cymone’s laugh this time was far more amused. “Yes, that’s a fair assessment. I shouldn’t be mean to him though, he had a rough time of it under Podarkes.”

“The bad Archon? Praxos told me about him.”

“Did he now?” Cymone cracked an eye. “Praxos isn’t usually one for story telling.”

“Well he just told me he was a bad man. We had a long cart ride. What upset Aegeus today though?”

“Oh those two poor blokes who were taken so badly after eating the fish. They passed over in the night. That’s why the Archon is going to be so busy. There’s funeral arrangements to deal with. Not that she has to do that of course. They both have families who can cover the costs. But she’ll feel she has to be there. They want it dealt with quickly as I understand it. Warm weather,” she pointed skywards. “And apparently they weren’t in the best of condition when they boarded the ferry.”

“I don’t suppose anyone is really,” Phoibe considered.

“A very good point. Anyway, the poor Archon has a lot on her mind at the moment. What with the funeral, and the rest of the folk who are sick, she’ll be wanting prayers and offerings for them, and getting to the bottom of who’s behind these pictures, and there’s the distribution of supplies to be arranged, though I imagine that will be right up Aegeus’ alley. He loves anything where you have to make notes and keep records.”

“Hmm,” Phoibe tossed her final pebble into the stream. It sank with a deeply satisfying sound. “Which pictures?”

“The… actually that’s probably something that you don’t need to know about,” Cymone recalled herself just in time. “Nasty, messy business. Some people have dirty minds, that’s all you do need to remember. That, and the fact your sister and the Archon love each other very much.”

“Yes, I’m starting to see that,” Phoibe nodded. “Kassandra said she did, but she says a lot of things, except when she’s saying not enough things. She needs to balance it a bit,” she tossed the soggy stalk into the water. “Do you think that this wouldn’t have happened if Kyra hadn’t come to Kephallonia with Kassandra?” 

Cymone opened her eyes and sat up, straightening her skirts as she lifted her feet from the stream.  “There’s no saying that it wouldn’t have happened anyway, little one,” she patted her cheek. “And the Archon wanted to meet Kassandra’s family there, your family. She’s never been smitten with anyone, the way she is with your sister as I understand it. Though it's no wonder really I suppose, she makes you look twice, even if you don’t normally look once.”

“I’ve seen Kassandra, well I’ve seen her do some strange things before to impress girls,” Phoibe followed Cymone’s lead, burrowing her toes into the cool grass. “But I’ve never seen her like this with one before.”

“Is that so?” she smiled, getting to her feet with a grunt of effort that woke Orion. “And what do you think about that?” she gave her a quizzical look.

“I didn’t like it at first,” Phoibe admitted, putting on her sandals and shuffling over on her knees, to help Cymone with hers. “I was jealous I think. Of all the time Kassandra was spending with her. But I thought when we came here that it would be just her and me, that we’d have loads of time together. It's not like that though,” she accepted Cymone’s hand and got to her feet, brushing grass seeds from her tunic.

“It will get better Phoibe,” she picked up the empty basket. “Just let’s get through this rough patch and things will settle down. You’ll be able to get into a routine. The Archon has a tutor lined up for you I believe.”

“Mmm,” she nodded, taking the basket from her and hooking it over one arm as she held Cymone’s hand with the other. “I don’t think she’ll have done anything about that yet, not with the fish and the pictures.”

“Aye, maybe don’t mention about the pictures,” Cymone gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s not the sort of thing they would want you knowing about I don’t think. And you might be surprised. The Archon is very organised. It’ll take her a while to get used to having a little girl around the place, but once she does, she’ll be a good... well she’ll make a good... she’ll look after you well,” she settled.

“Do you have any children?” Phoibe asked, watching Orion weaving back and forth chasing the scent of rabbits.

“I do actually,” she smiled. “Both grown up of course. My boy is a fisherman and my girl is a potter. They both live on Paros. That’s not far, I see them quite often. No grandchildren yet,” she winked. “They’re slow workers, the pair of them. So I’ll have you instead I think,” she squeezed her hand again.

“I’m getting a lot of grandmaters,” Phoibe grinned. “I like it.”

“You can never have too many,” Cymone nodded. “After all you never know when one’s going to drop off the twig. Not me!” she saw Phoibe’s dismayed expression. “Both my parents lived to be as old as the hills. You’ve no worries there. Though if that dog drags something dead back to the villa both of our lives might get shortened.”

Phoibe spent the rest of the day exploring more thoroughly around the villa and grounds, chatting with the guards and helping the stable staff. Twilight was falling as she stood on the fence, leaning over the top rail to feed scraps to the goats.

“Careful there.”

She hadn’t heard Kassandra approach and jumped as she took hold of her waist. “Don’t get your fingers near their mouths. Especially not his,” she nodded at the huge Billy.

“I know,” she grinned. “He’s tried a couple of times, but he’s not caught me yet.”

“I am warning you now,” Kassandra wagged a finger in his direction. “Break Phoibe’s skin and we _ will  _ be roasting you!”  She swept her off the fence and slung her over her shoulder, making her giggle delightedly as Kassandra tickled her ribs. She’d clearly been back for long enough to take off her armour, her feet were bare and she was wearing just a light tunic, loosely belted about her hips.

“Hungry little one?” she swung her down as they entered the kitchen. “It’s just you and me for supper. Kyra is still busy.”

She’d clearly made an effort to assemble a decent meal from the dishes that Cymone had left and Phoibe realised that she was hungry after all, though she’d given it no thought till now.

“Busy with the funeral?” she asked, pouring water for them both.

Kassandra looked up from serving, clearly surprised. Almost immediately it seemed to dawn on her that Phoibe’s ears would work just as efficiently here on Mykonos as they had on Kephallonia.

“Yes,” she nodded for her to join her and they washed their hands at the pump. “It’s been a sad day for a lot of people. Two families have lost their husbands and paters. Kyra wants to make sure that they’ll be able to manage now without them.”

“The other people, the ones who are still sick?” Phoibe mumbled some time later. She had a mouthful of beans, but Kassandra seemed too distracted to call her on it.

“It sounds like they’ll be all right eventually,” she nodded. “The ones who died were fishermen, they were out all day, ate some of their catch, probably more than the others. They’re ill but Rhea and Theis are confident they’ll get better.”  They ate in silence for a while, Orion snoring under the table at their feet.  “I’m sorry that I haven’t seen you all day Phoibe,” Kassandra added a little wine to her cup of water. She looked tired, Phoibe thought.

“It’s all right.” She wiped her plate with a piece of bread and dropped it under the table. Wet slobbering indicated that Orion had woken instantly. Phoibe caught Kassandra’s playfully reproving expression and held a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Kyra.”

“Well he’s sleeping with you, thankfully,” she laughed.

“Should I come to the funeral tomorrow?” Phoibe asked as they stood in the yard washing their dishes under the pump. Moths frantically circling the lanterns cast strange shadows.

“No. I don’t think so little one, best to stay here tomorrow.”

“Is it because I don’t have any smart tunics?” she asked, following her in and helping put away the dishes and left over food.

“What?” Kassandra turned and crouched down on her haunches to look into her eyes. “Gods, no, Phoibe. It's just going to be an upsetting day all round. It will be long and tiring and Kyra will be right in the middle of it, so I won’t be able to spend much time with you.”

Phoibe considered this for a moment. She could see the wisdom of it.

“I’m sorry little one,” Kassandra saw her nod and clasped the back of her neck gently, resting their foreheads together. “I really am. Let’s get tomorrow out of the way, and I promise that I will spend some time with you. Perhaps we could go and shop for those new tunics eh? Then you’ll be ready for happier celebrations.”

“All right,” Phoibe made the effort to perk up a bit. “I suppose I can start to write a letter home tomorrow. I mean to Kephallonia,” she corrected awkwardly.

“I think it's all right to have more than one home,” Kassandra smiled. “Now. Time for bed. Are you full? Do you want some cake?”

“No thank you,” she shook her head. “But should we take some for Kyra?” she suggested. “If she’s still working? She’s not had any supper. She doesn’t eat properly, Selene would sort that out.  _ You  _ should sort that out!” she looked up at her.

Kassandra laughed and held up her hands defensively. “I try my best. She can be a very determined woman.”

“So can you,” Phoibe knelt on the chair to cut the cake. 

“Make it three,” Kassandra suggested. “Praxos and Aegeus are with her.”

Phoibe moved the knife a couple of inches over before cutting Praxos’ slice. Stacking three small plates she placed the slices on the topmost and clambered down, holding them carefully.

At the office door she made to give them to Kassandra but she shook her head.  “I think you should go and say good night,” she tapped on the door.

Kyra was sitting at her desk, the day’s wilted laurels were by the ink pot and she was rubbing the bridge of her nose wearily.

“And the orphanage of course,” Aegeus was scribbling notes.

“Will you get that underway while -” she glanced up as the door opened and despite looking weary she smiled as Phoibe stepped in, carefully bearing their supper.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she looked around. “But I thought you’d had no supper, and I didn’t know if you’d had anything during the day, and it's not good to go a long time without eating, it gives you a headache and it makes you angry. Well not you,” she amended quickly. “It makes Kassandra angry though. But, I wanted to say good night as well. And I’m sorry about those men and their families.”

Kyra got to her feet and came over to her. The smile she gave as she took the plates from Phoibe was tired, but warm. “Thank you sweetheart, that’s very thoughtful.”

“But you’re going to eat it, right?” Phoibe cocked an eyebrow.

Praxos and Kassandra grinned at one another and Kyra shook her head, amused.

“Of course I am,” she declared, sliding one of the smaller slices onto a plate. “I’m going to eat some right now.”

“Oh,” Phoibe frowned. “I forgot the- “

“Never mind that,” Praxos anticipated her apology. “Kyra grew up in a cave, remember, she can eat a bit of cake with her fingers. Now this is what I call service, I could get used to this,” he made his way over to the desk.

“Well eat the whole slice,” Phoibe said, hopefully. “You don’t eat enough.”

There was general laughter from three of the adults and a mildly scandalized exclamation from Aegeus.

“Don’t be telling Praxos he doesn’t eat enough,” Kassandra gave him an affable wink.

“He has to eat a lot, to keep him going, because he’s big,” she defended. “That big slice is yours Praxos.”

“And I’m glad of it,” he slid it onto a plate and crouched down next to her. “Thank you very much Phoibe, sleep well and may your dreams be as sweet as this cake.”

“You too,” she wrapped her arms around his thick neck and hugged him tightly. “I hope tomorrow isn’t too awful.” She turned to Kyra who was sportingly ploughing her way through the cake, to Kassandra’s fond amusement.

“I imagine it will be as awful as such things generally are,” she put down her plate and brushed crumbs from her chest before squatting down to hug Phoibe. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness. I’m sorry that things have been so busy and messy since we got back.”

“That’s all right,” Phoibe pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Cymone has looked after me. And it's not like anyone did any of this on purpose. I hope tomorrow isn’t too bad.”

Aegeus had been happily munching at his cake throughout this. On seeing Phoibe advancing warily towards him, he reared back a startled step or two like a dog unexpectedly encountering a snake. The others watched with fascinated interest as Phoibe stopped a half pace away. She was clearly thinking carefully about something. After a moment of consideration she held out her hand to him.

“Good night Aegeus. I hope all your important record keeping goes well tomorrow.”

“Oh!” he brightened instantly and took her hand, bobbing her a respectful little bow as he did so. “Thank you very much, Mistress Phoibe.”

“Just Phoibe is -”

“And thank you for the delicious cake, the perfect restorative for flagging spirits I find. As my esteemed colleague said, may your sleep be deep and untroubled.”

As she headed towards the door Phoibe stopped and looked back hopefully. “Kyr- I mean Archon, is it all right if Kassandra tucks me in?”3

Kyra found she was having difficulty swallowing the morsel of cake she’d been chewing. She met Kassandra’s sympathetic smile as she reached for her cup on the desk. Composure recovered, she mustered a smile for Phoibe. “Of course it is, Kassandra is yours for the rest of the night, and she will always be available to tuck you in whenever she’s present. And Phoibe? When those laurels are off? I’m just Kyra.”

As they closed the door behind them Kassandra heard Aegeus murmuring “charming child” before returning to his cake.  “Nicely done,” she placed a gentle hand behind Phoibe’s head. “The first time I met Aegeus... I hugged him,” she looked down, Phoibe’s face was a picture of amused disbelief. “Yes, I know. I think he nearly wet himself. In fact I may have been the only person in the room who didn’t.”

“You didn’t do it again though?” Phoibe asked as they approached her bedroom.

“Gods no!” Kassandra snorted. “I’m not a complete idiot.” As she sat watching Phoibe get ready for bed, she noticed how dusty her feet were. “I’m guessing you haven’t washed today?”

“I sort of did, this morning, Cymone made me wash my face and hands before breakfast and we went and had a picnic and I had my feet in the stream,” she looked down at them, lips pursed thoughtfully. “So they have had a wash, even if it doesn’t look like it.”

“Well don’t put in your letter that Kassandra lets me go to bed without having a wash... and probably best not to mention the poisoned fish, we don’t want them to worry.”

“But, there’s nothing to worry about. If I’d eaten any I wouldn’t be able to write the letter. And don’t you think Sophitia would be interested?”

Kassandra pulled back the covers for her, sitting down on the edge of the bed once she was safely settled. “Let’s wait till it's over,” she suggested. “And then let her know. Grown ups worry about all sorts of things.”

“What  _ am _ I allowed to put in then?” she pouted playfully.

Kassandra gave it some theatrical consideration. “Well you could send them a picture of my very handsome goat,” she grinned.

“I think your very handsome goat is going to be a pater soon,” Phoibe snuggled down, stifling a yawn. “He’s doing all the right things.”

“Is he?” Kassandra’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ve not... caught him at that.”

“It’s a wonder, cos he’s doing it a lot!”

“He is?” her eyebrows were still raised. “Good for him. I mean, is he a thoughtful and considerate lover, do you suppose?”

“For a goat, I guess so. The nannies don’t seem to mind anyway.”

“That’s good,” Kassandra nodded. “Maybe no pictures of that either.”

“Gods I’m going to have nothing to put in this letter,” Phoibe laughed. “I think Clio would quite like a picture. For her collection.”

Kassandra had been gearing up to kiss her goodnight but she startled back upright at this. “What do you know about Clio’s collection?!”

“I know she has one.”

“Oh. Right,” she frowned warily.

“Don’t worry, she only showed me the normal ones.”

Kassandra couldn’t speak for a moment. She sat looking at Phoibe as though she’d just hit her with a plank. “What do you mean _normal_ ones?” she squeaked, cleared her throat and tried again. “Normal ones?”

“Just the ones she needed to help explain things when she was telling me about sex, otherwise she’d have had to draw them herself and, well she’s good at mathematics but she’s not much of an artist.”

“Right,” Kassandra swallowed hard. “Perhaps this is one of those things that I don’t need to know about.”

“Calm down,” Phoibe patted her hand. “She didn’t show me any that had more than two people in them.”

“Oh gods,” her voice was muffled behind her hands as she rubbed her face wearily.

“Nothing to get upset about,” Phoibe assured her. “They’re just pictures.”

Kassandra sat silently for a moment or two, her hands still over her face before she dropped them to her lap. Her blush had faded and she looked tired again. “Pictures are like words sometimes Phoibe. They can hurt if you’re not careful with them.”

She reached out slowly and took hold of Kassandra’s fingers. When she’d mentioned Clio’s collection she hadn’t even been thinking about what Cymone had let slip earlier. “I’m sorry Kassandra,” she said quietly, wondering if there was any way to painlessly extract the details. “Clio wasn’t being weird with them, I swear, she was just -”

“No, I know,” she forced a smile and brushed Phoibe’s hair back from her forehead. “And just as well Clio was there eh?” she assumed a brighter, self deprecating tone. “Or you’d have been relying on me and then where would you have been?”

“I’d have been not knowing how babies are made, that’s where I’d have been,” she smiled. “You look really tired Kassandra. Is everything all right?”

She gave her a wistful smile and nodded. “It’s fine little one. It's just been a busy, upsetting couple of days. Kyra is really sad about what’s happened and that makes me feel sad. But we’ll get through it, and like I say, once we’ve got the funeral rites out of the way, we can spend some time together.”

She’d intended to kiss her goodnight and go see if there was anything she could do to encourage Kyra to bed, she had a long day ahead of her tomorrow. But Praxos was there to keep an eye on her welfare, she thought, looking tenderly at Phoibe’s sun darkened freckles, her drowsy half smile.

“Move up little one” she said quietly, getting to her feet. “Make a bit of room.”

Phoibe grinned happily and wriggled over to the edge of the bed as Kassandra drew back the covers and clambered in.  “Is this all right?” she whispered, snuggling up against her, beaming as Kassandra wrapped an arm around her and held her close. “Kyra won’t mind?”

“Kyra said I was yours for the evening no?” She kissed Phoibe’s forehead. “And she’s down eating cake with Praxos and Aegeus,” she reminded her.

Phoibe cuddled tightly against Kassandra’s side, resting her head on the solid muscle of her chest. “Where’s Orion?” she said quietly after a couple of minutes.

“Ow, gods’ teeth Phoibe,” Kassandra laughed. “Break my heart why don’t you? He’ll be down trying to scrounge cake crumbs in the office. Would you like me to go and get him for you?” she playfully made to get out of bed.

“No, no, no,” she grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. “Don’t. I’d rather have you.”

“You’re sure?” Kassandra teased. “Because it won’t take me but a couple of minutes?” 

Phoibe giggled and shook her head, resuming her position limpet-like at Kassandra’s side. She could feel the slow drum of her heartbeat, the steady rise and fall of her chest. Kyra had looked so tired she thought, casting her mind back to the office. Just now and last night also. She really did work hard, and long, and she didn’t eat properly, she chewed her lip thoughtfully.

“Kassandra?”

“Hmm?” she sounded drowsy.

“Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean? With what’s going on?”

“S’nearly sorted,” Kassandra’s voice was sleep thickened. “You don’t worry,” she hugged her tighter. “S’all right.”

“But I’d like to,” she said quietly. “I’m really good at finding stuff out, remember? I knew everything that went on on Kephallonia.”

“No bad fish... Kephallonia…”

“No, not the fish,” Phoibe frowned. “The other stuff. I could find out about the other stuff.”

“Good… good girl…” Kassandra’s grip on her waist relaxed as she sank into sleep.

Phoibe felt a yawn birthing and out of the corner of her eye saw the bedroom door swing open, followed by the patter of Orion’s claws on the floor. Moments later the end of the bed dipped as he placed his huge front paws on the mattress. Seeing Kassandra in his place he gave a frustrated huff and dropped down to curl up on the floor by the bed.

“Good boy,” Phoibe whispered. “Just till Kyra comes up to bed. Then she can have Kassandra back.”

She had no idea whether Kassandra spent the whole night there. When she woke, Orion had taken her place. He was lying with his head on the pillow snuffling softly in her face. Feeling her move he woke up with a great yawn, licked her cheek and clambered clumsily off the bed.

As she’d expected the place was quiet. She’d slept in much later than she’d expected and everyone had left for the temple.

“And what have you planned for the remainder of today, my little dumpling?” Cymone asked over breakfast, though in all honesty it was closer to midday Phoibe suspected. She didn’t normally sleep so late, her head felt woolly and sluggish.

“I was going to write a letter home,” she rubbed her eyes. “Why is it when you sleep for longer you feel more tired?” she prodded the porridge around her bowl with none of her usual enthusiasm.

“Good question,” Cymone was making bread. Clouds of brown flour wafted over the table, dusting the surface of Phoibe’s neglected breakfast. “I don’t know the answer, but you are definitely not used to lying in and that’s a fact. Do you want some fresh porridge, I’ve got that a bit floury.”

“No, it's all right,” she shook her head. “I’ll be eating the flour when I have the bread no?”

“Very... whatsit?” Cymone frowned, her plump arms dusty with it. “There’s a word for it, being practical, not making a fuss. Do you want some honey in it, that’ll cheer it up a bit?”

“Pragmatic,” Phoibe said dully as Cymone leaned over and drizzled honey over the surface. 

“There you go,” she winked as another cloud of flour wafted over the table.

Phoibe decided to go and eat the rest outside. Sitting cross legged with her back against the sun warmed wall she chewed absently, watching the maids across the yard chatting and laughing as they washed the bed linens.  She could have brought those down she thought, it would have given her something to do. The next time her spoon reached her mouth it was empty and looking down she realised she’d finished. Washing her bowl under the pump she returned it to the kitchen. 

The villa seemed even bigger than usual today without Praxos and Kassandra wandering around. Her footsteps echoed as she padded up the stairs to her bedroom.  The desk that had been provided was very grand, she thought, taking a seat and looking out of the window. She hadn’t even got round to unpacking her papyrus and pens yet she realised. Taking a deep breath and stretching expansively in the hope of chasing out some of the lethargy that had taken a hold she placed her drawing board on the desk. It fitted perfectly. That was good. She felt a little cheered and unwrapped the cloth roll containing her pens and brushes. A pot of some description would be good for those, perhaps she could charm one out of Cymone.

Things were looking up, she decided. The notes and drawings that she’d made aboard ship reminded her that she had material for a letter of epic proportions. She selected the nicest piece of parchment she had, good first impressions, she decided, and pulled the stopper from her ink bottle, only to find that the small amount she’d had left had dried to a crusty layer at the bottom.

“Bugger!” she frowned.

“Well I can definitely give you a pot for your brushes,” Cymone nodded when she asked. She was sitting outside the door, drinking water and calling across to the maids. The kitchen was stifling. “Take that greenish coloured one on the side there,” she pointed. “ I’ve no ink. That’ll be in the Archon’s office. Just go take it, she won’t mind.”

“Am I allowed in there?” 

“I don’t see why not,” Cymone glanced round. Phoibe was standing with her new pen pot clutched to her chest, her brows crinkled with uncertainty. “Of course you’re allowed in there,” she got to her feet. “Your her... part of her... you live here now, with us. So long as she’s not got visitors it's fine to go in. People are in and out all the time,” she took her hand and led her down to the office door, throwing it open. n “I’m forever nipping in, she’s got the best pair of scissors in the villa. Actually, don’t tell her I borrow her scissors eh?” she winked. “There’s bound to be ink on her desk, help yourself. The rule is, if you borrow something you have to return it.” She cocked her head suddenly and sniffed. “Bugger! Is that my bread?” she raced off in the direction of the kitchen leaving Phoibe standing inside the doorway.

Well, Cymone had said it was all right, she told herself, and Kyra wasn’t even here to disturb. Closing the door behind her she made her way over to the big desk. It seemed huge now the room was empty and there was no one sitting behind it. 

Phoibe carefully placed her pen pot on the desk and padded round to where Kyra normally sat. Her chair looked very big and comfy. If you sat in a chair all day you’d need it to be comfortable she supposed, climbing up onto it and taking a seat. Leaning back she rested her hands on the carved wooden arms and surveyed Kyra’s domain. There was an excellent view of the door. Whoever was sitting here was the first thing you would see as you entered. Presumably visitors were announced, rather than just walking in. Kyra could position herself for maximum impact.

“I am Phoibe, Archon of the Silver Islands,” she wagged a finger at the door. “Why have you come to see me today?”  She couldn’t actually conjure up any legitimate reasons for her pretend visitor to be here. The only things she’d seen Kyra actively involved in so far had been to do with sickness and death, nothing she really wanted to play act.  “You may leave!” she giggled, waving her hand dismissively. 

Well, this was all fun and games, but it wasn’t finding any ink. She cast her eye over the expanse of desk and settled on the most obvious thing. Lifting the lid from the beautifully carved pot to the right, she found that sure enough it was full of glossy looking ink.

She couldn’t take that though. It was quite clearly a very expensive ink pot, as well as being Kyra’s, the one she presumably used for writing every day. She’d nothing to decant any into, and the pot was too big and awkward for her to be able to even if she had. It was one thing to come in and borrow something, it would be quite another if she spilled ink all over Kyra’s desk, or that expensive looking rug.

It had to be filled up from something else obviously. There must be a bottle or a flask around somewhere. Leaning back she examined this side of the desk, there were some drawers along the top. She pulled them open. They slid like silk, completely silent, and she opened and closed them a few times, just for the pleasure of it. They were all too shallow for an ink flask though, it would be somewhere it could stand upright.

Running her hands along the buttery smooth panels of the drawers she encountered something below them. Bending to look she saw a small ledge to her right, deeply lipped, set at a perfect height for an adult to reach whilst sitting in the chair. She wiggled over to examine it more closely. Cradled behind the lip to prevent it falling off unexpectedly was…? She reached out and her fingers curled around the well worn grip of a dagger. 

Removing it carefully Phoibe held it up to the light. The sun glinted off the precisely honed edge of a blade the length and breadth of her forearm. She gripped it tightly and swished it back and forth in the air a few times, whistling with approval as she tested the weight and balance. Cymone had said some people feared Kyra and that a few people ought to. She was clearly well prepared to stand up for herself, should negotiations require a more “hands on” approach. Giving it one final admiring look she replaced it just where she’d found it. Exciting. But not ink.

She turned her attention to the doors to the left and right of the chair. They had locks on them, but not particularly effective ones, she rolled her eyes scornfully. The one on the right wasn’t even locked. She was surprised to find that rather than one tall space it was divided by two trays which slid out to form deeper drawers. This one was full of parchment and papyrus. It was very good quality too, she ran her fingers over the topmost sheets. A covetous little voice at the back of her mind pointed out that there was so much, Kyra would never know if she borrowed a few sheets.

Easing one out she held it up to the light. It was flawless. Clearly for important, official letters. She slipped it back quickly. You didn’t borrow parchment. You took it. Once you’d drawn or written on it, you couldn’t give it back. You stole it. And you didn’t steal from someone who had taken you into their home and been kind to you. Someone Kassandra was in love with. She closed the door with a crisp click and turned to the left hand one.

This was locked, after a fashion. It rattled loosely when she tugged on it. Her initial instinct was to reach for the dagger, but it was so clearly well maintained that she feared inflicting a tell tale nick in the blade while prying the lock. She was supposed to be casually looking for ink after all, not rifling through locked cupboards. Glancing around she spotted a small double edged blade that Kyra presumably used for breaking seals or trimming reeds. It was sturdy enough for what she needed. Without really thinking, she slid the blade down the gap in the door, feeling carefully for the right point to twist sharply. The door swung open and Phoibe replaced the knife, smiling smugly to herself. 

Still no ink though, she sighed. This cupboard was arranged just the same as the first, except that one of the trays had been removed to make space for, what were they? She pulled out the drawer and saw stacked within, a number of folders made of thick papyrus. 

She’d pulled out the drawer quite sharply and the movement had displaced the sheets inside the folder a little. They seemed to be both papyrus and parchment. Not as good quality as the Archon’s though, judging by the edges. She reached out for the topmost cover and made to lift it. That was a drawing no? She could see just enough to make out a foot and the beginnings of a leg, seemingly well drawn.

“Mistress Phoibe!” Aegeus sounded just as startled as Phoibe felt. She dropped the cover, pushed in the drawer and clicked close the door.

“I was just looking for ink!” She tried not to sound defensive. “I want to write a letter home. To Kephallonia I mean. I promised my family I would write when I got here, and when I unpacked all my things my ink had all dried up, but Cymone said that there would be lots in the Archon’s office and that Kyra wouldn’t mind if I took a little, but I can only see this ink pot and that’s way too big and beautiful for me to borrow.”

Her waffling seemed to have had the desired effect. Aegeus had regained his composure and was bustling over to the desk. 

“Is it not splendid Mistress Phoibe,” he ran his fingers over the lid.

“It’s gorgeous,” she nodded. “But honestly, just Phoibe will -”

“It was a gift from a visiting dignitary, and the best sort of a gift don’t you agree?” he smiled. “Both decorative and practical. But you are quite correct, far too grandiose for a smaller desk. Mistress Cymone is both correct and incorrect in her assumptions. The Archon will most definitely be only too happy for you to avail yourself of our supplies. Of course you must write home to your family, inform them of your safe arrival, entertain them with tales of your high seas adventures, sooth them with reassurances of how well you have settled in. They must be awaiting word with bated breath,” he drifted off for a moment, gazing out of the terrace doors. 

“It is a torment to wait for word from loved ones that never comes.” His fingers knotted and unknotted at his chest.

Phoibe waited for him to regain his train of thought, but it seemed to have been permanently derailed.  “Aegeus?” she said softly. “Are you all right?” he seemed to have gone very pale suddenly and the lines in his face had become deeper. “Would you like me to get you some water?”

“Hmm?” he turned to her, his eyes looked far away, as though he was looking straight through her. Then he gave a sharp twitch like a dog shaking off a fly. “Water? Ah, no, thank you though, how very thoughtful, what a considerate child you are. A credit to the Misthios and to your loved ones back on fair Kephallonia. Now? Ink ah yes, ink!” he seemed himself again.  “As I was saying, the Archon will be pleased to see you making use of the villa’s resources. And ink is indeed just such a resource and one that is always in plentiful supply as Mistress Cymone supposes, but the reserves are not kept in here, far too bulky. However there is something here which, I am certain the Archon would be only too happy to have me share with you.” He made his way round the back of the desk and reached for one of the drawers. 

As he did so, the cupboard door to Phoibe’s left swung open and tapped against his foot. They both looked down at it. Phoibe very much needed to swallow, but very much didn’t want to at this moment. She assumed what she hoped was an innocently blank expression. The awkward silence lasted only a moment before Aegeus tutted to himself and shook his head.

“This blessed door again,” he fiddled with the back of the lock, slammed the door once, twice, three times, until he heard something click. Withdrawing a small tablet from his belt he made a note. “I really must get a craftsman out to replace that. It looks most unprofessional. This will be the third time it has been repaired, Mistress Phoibe, if you can believe that? Craftspeople today!” He was opening one of the drawers and rummaging inside. “There we are!” he produced a bundle of neatly trimmed reed pens.

“Oh, thank you, but I do have pens.” She had barely recovered herself from the scare with the door, and could feel sweat beading on her upper lip.

“Not like these!” He held them up to the light blazing in through the terrace doors. “Trimmed by the Archon’s very own hands. There is not a woman in the Aegean with more talented fingers, believe you me.”

Phoibe was immensely relieved that Kassandra wasn’t here right now, though she was sorry it had to be a funeral demanding her presence.

“Imagine,” she said carefully bland.

“Indeed,” he pressed them into her hands. “Use them well Mistress Phoibe. The fruits of my mistress’ extraordinary dexterity. Now!” He clapped his hands. “They will be of limited use indeed without ink, I dare say. Follow me Mistress Phoibe and I shall show you where the reserves are stored. And not only ink, but reeds and papyrus, parchment and wax. All of which you must feel free to avail yourself of, whenever you require. This way, this way,” he bustled over to the door, waving to her to follow him. 

“I am about to show you my second favourite room in the entire villa,” he lowered his voice conspiratorially.

“Second?” Phoibe had collected her pen pot as they left, and she clutched it to her chest now, as she cast a quick glance back over her shoulder to the desk and its mysterious cupboard.

“After the Archon’s office,” he was expounding. “Most blessed of all the chambers herein by virtue of our beloved Archon’s almost constant presence.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you might find yourself wondering if Phoibe isn't at that funny age already.

Supper was a dour affair, even with the added presence of Praxos at the table. The adults all looked exhausted and Phoibe was still feeling woolly headed and irritable from her unexpected lie-in. Her mood hadn’t been improved in the slightest by the news that Kassandra’s services would be required by the Archon again the following morning.

“I’m sorry Phoibe, I know I said that we would spend time together as soon as I could, but I’d completely forgotten about this. I’m not going back on my word, it's just -”

“You’ll get round to it eventually,” Phoibe muttered under her breath, prodding a bean around her dish with the point of her knife. “Like you always do.”

“Hey!” Kassandra’s keen hearing had caught every word and she looked guilty as well as annoyed.

“Well you promised.” Phoibe obliterated the bean as though it had been the one to break its word. “Promises aren’t pie crust you know! You shouldn’t make them if you’re going to break them.”

Kassandra flinched inwardly at hearing words she’d heard from Selene when she was just a child herself.  Sensing the tension Orion grumbled quietly and shifted position. He was flopped under the table with Phoibe’s bare toes resting on his meaty haunches and his head lying on his mistress’ feet.

Across the table Kyra looked up from her plate, glancing anxiously from Phoibe’s sullen pout to Kassandra’s wounded annoyance. She should step in she supposed. She’d told Kassandra she wanted them to raise Phoibe together. But she’d made such good progress with her recently. She thought back to the little girl walking into her office the previous evening with a piece of cake for her. You were supposed to present a united front though weren’t you, at times like this? Hadn’t she heard people say something like that when discussing family squabbles? 

“I’m sorry Phoibe, this is my fault really. Tomorrow will be the first day of us distributing supplies and I want to be there to make sure that everything is running smoothly. Hopefully it will all work well and we will be able to get back to normal.” There was a little cheese and some lightly dressed vegetables on Kyra’s plate but she’d spent more time arranging and rearranging them than eating anything. “If you must be cross with anyone, it should be me and not Kassandra.”

“I’m cross with both of you,” she snapped, dropping her knife with a clatter that made Orion jump. “Why does Kassandra have to go with you? Why can’t Praxos go instead? You’re his little girl, why doesn’t he look after you?”

“That will do young lady.” Kassandra put down her spoon with exaggerated care, her expression thundery.

“Now you sound like Markos!” Phoibe grumbled peevishly, pushing back her chair with a loud scrape that startled Orion out from his resting place. He shook his head, ears and jowls flapping, sending slimy drool flying in all directions.

Kassandra gave a grunt of disgust and looked at the slippery strand that had slapped across the back of her hand. “You sit back down, right now!”

“I _ am  _ sitting!” Phoibe replied impudently but accurately.

“Look!” Praxos held up his hands, in one he was holding a chicken leg that looked more like a wing between his thick fingers. “Before you go out into the yard for a fist fight, this is really all my fault Phoibe.”

All three were looking at him now, Kassandra and Kyra puzzled, Phoibe suspicious.

“Yes,” he sighed. “The thing is,” he gave Phoibe a look of boyish hopefulness. “I have to go hunting in the morning and I wanted to ask if you would come with me?”

“Me?” she cocked an eyebrow.

“Mmm,” he pretended interest in his chicken leg for a moment before snapping off the drumstick and peeling away the flesh in one mouthful. He chewed quickly and dropped the bare bone on his plate. “I’ve heard so many tales of what a fine young hunter you are, how quickly you’re learning and improving and I wanted to see for myself. I’m sorry, I should have asked you first, then there wouldn’t have been all this fuss. I just hoped that you would want to come and catch some rabbits with Orion and me.”

“Orion too?” she looked over to the door where the big dog had flopped down with his head on his paws.

“Of course,” he was chewing on the thigh now. “Do I look like a man who races back and forth retrieving his own rabbits?” he slapped his belly. “So?” he gave her an arch glance. “Would you like to come with us?”

“When? I mean yes. Yes please.” She’d brightened considerably. Behind her Kassandra was pouting and wiping the dog drool off her hand with the skirt of her tunic.

“It’ll mean an early start, mind you,” he pursed his lips. “You know what rabbits are like!”

“Dawn and dusk,” she nodded solemnly. “I should go to bed,” she gathered up her dishes.

“Leave those,” Kyra waved a hand. “We’ll clear the table when we’re finished.”

“She can take her dishes.” Kassandra was still scowling. “She doesn’t get to be rude to everyone and then get her chores done for her.”

“I _ was  _ taking them!” Phoibe shot her a look that Kassandra was sure Selene would never have seen.

“Then there’s no need to pout about it eh?” her eyebrows were raised in a challenge.

Before Phoibe had a chance to open her mouth for the retort that was surely coming, Kyra intervened.  “We’ve all had a long, tiring day, and tempers are clearly a little frayed.”

“Mine isn’t,” said Praxos saucily, dropping his denuded chicken bone on his plate and pushing the rest of the carcass towards Kassandra with a questioning look. She shook her head gloomily and he helped himself to the remaining limb.

“Well kudos to you Praxos,” Kyra replied dryly. “The rest of us clearly do not possess your stalwart equilibrium, not today anyway. But let’s not go to bed angry with each other. The shadow of cross words will hang over your hunt in the morning and dull your relish.”

Phoibe looked at her weary, hopeful expression and reminded herself of what she’d had to do today. Over her shoulder she saw Orion’s big, broad face break into a vast yawn. She’d never been hunting with a dog before, and Kyra had been nothing but generous with him.

“All right. I’m sorry I was grumpy. It's been a weird day and I’m tired.”

“All the more reason to get up to bed then.” Kassandra tore a strip of meat from the chicken breast, more for something to do than for any real appetite for it.

“Look! Do you want me to wash my dishes, or to go to bed? Make up your mind!” Phoibe rolled her eyes cheekily.

“Wash your dishes and _ then  _ go to bed!” Kassandra barked. “And a bit less lip from you while you’re about it.”

As Phoibe stomped out, her cup rattling in her bowl with inappropriate jauntiness, Kyra reached out and placed her hand gently over Kassandra’s.

“Bite your tongue for a little while, my friend,” Praxos was wiping grease from his beard with a handkerchief that had seen better days. “Kyra’s right, we’ve all had a bitch of, I mean a terrible day and we’re tired.”

Kassandra nodded and began to make a slow performance out of eating the strip of chicken. She’d barely finished when Phoibe returned. She put away her dishes in silence and wiped her hands on her tunic. Remembering that Kyra was still allowing them to take her dog hunting in the morning, and that she’d spent some time making free with her stationery supplies in the store room earlier that day, she made her way round the table and gave her a hesitant hug.  “I’m sorry I was rude to you,” she said quietly. “And I hope everything is all right tomorrow.”

“Apology accepted,” Kyra patted her back. “Let’s forget about it now, and start afresh in the morning. Sleep well and I will pray that you have good luck on your hunt. Though you two -” Orion snorted. “You three, will hardly need it.”

“We’ll need to be up before the sun,” Praxos opened his arms for her expansive hug. “I’ll come and tap on your door, but you’ll need to wake that great, slobbery beast.”

Phoibe skipped straight past Kassandra to give Orion a hug, leaving her trying to disguise that she’d turned in her chair and half reached out as she approached. “We’ll be up, won’t we boy?” she ruffled his ears. “Yes we will. We will definitely be up to go hunt r-”

“Don’t say the R word!” Praxos shouted, holding up a hand. “Or he’ll think we’re going now!”

Phoibe clamped a hand over her mouth with a playful expression. It was the precise opposite of the wounded look on Kassandra’s face. “We are going to have so much you-know-what stew tomorrow, even you will be full.”  Orion had no idea what Phoibe was saying but it sounded delightful, his tail drummed steadily against the door as she scratched behind his ears.  “Good night everyone, I hope everything goes well tomorrow. We should get to bed now.”

Kassandra watched as Orion lumbered to his feet and turned to follow Phoibe out. “Shall I come up and tuck you in?” She was already halfway out of her chair.

“No, it's okay, finish your supper, Orion can tuck me in.” She barely looked back before patting his head. “Come on boy, I’ll race you!”

As the slapping of sandals and skittering of claws disappeared upstairs Kassandra lowered herself slowly back into her seat.

“Ouch!” said Kyra sympathetically.

Kassandra was quiet, watching as Praxos produced a clean cup and filled it with ale for her.

“Thank you for stepping in there Praxos,” Kyra sighed as Kassandra picked up the brimming cup and took a thirsty gulp.

“My pleasure.” He waited till the half empty cup was back on the table, then topped it up. “I do want to take her hunting, I’m looking forward to it. You know, it's not easy raising children.” He gave them both a sympathetic look. “Especially if you’ve never done it before.”

“Do enlighten us, oh wise one!” Kassandra rolled her eyes theatrically before taking another mouthful of ale.

“Kassandra!” Kyra tutted. “Not helpful. And you stop filling up her cup.” She pointed a finger at Praxos as he proceeded to do just that. “I don’t need to be taking her to bed drunk tonight. We've got an early start too.”

“I’m sorry Praxos,” Kassandra gave a weary sigh and rubbed her face. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. She just, well, she hurt my feelings.”

“Yes, they’re good at that.” He leaned back in his chair, cradling his cup against his chest, and gave Kyra a playful wink. “I’m not claiming to be an expert, I’m just trying to give you the benefit of all the mistakes that I made. And I made a lot. All the same... Kyra turned out all right. Don’t you think?” 

Kassandra gave a tired laugh and sipped her ale a little more conservatively, feeling Kyra’s eyes on her. “You did a really good job. And honestly? I’m not sure that I am.”

He looked at her downcast expression for a while and then surprised her by leaning forward and taking one of her hands.  “The most important thing you can do for them is love them, my friend. And the second most important is to let them know that. That you’ll always love them. When they accidentally shoot you in the ass? You love them. When they set fire to your only spare tunic? You love them. When they keep bringing puppies and kittens back to the tent and then call you a monster because you won’t let them keep one? You love them.”

Kassandra gave Kyra a teasing sidelong look. “You were quite a handful!”

“She put Phoibe in the shade,” Praxos laughed delightedly. “The thing you need to remember, all the time, but especially when they’re working your last nerve, is this. You’ve been a child yourself. Even if you can’t recall much of it now. You’ve already walked the path they’re stumbling along. They’ve never been a grown up before, and they have no idea what the hell is happening to them. And I’m not just talking about the whole growing hair where you’ve never had it before business.” He heard Kassandra groan as she folded her arms on the table and buried her face in them. “They’ve no idea what’s going on up here,” he tapped his forehead.

“I’m not always sure myself,” she mumbled into the table. “Gods! I hadn’t imagined any of this. I don’t know. I thought it would be just like on Kephallonia when we were... ergh!” She sat up and rubbed her face wearily.

“You’re not doing anything wrong particularly,” Praxos patted her shoulder. “I mean you’re not doing anything spectacularly right either,” he teased. “But honestly? No one knows what they’re doing the first time round. I thought I had it all under control, and then when Kyra started becoming a woman? It was like waking up drunk in a strange place. I’d no idea what was happening or where to go.”

“Imagine how I felt,” Kyra remarked dryly.

“I do now,” he nodded. “And that’s why I’m trying to see things from Phoibe’s side, even though she was being a little brat tonight,” he chuckled. “New places, new people, new relationships. And she’ll soon be at that funny age.” 

Kassandra groaned again.

“I promise you. A bit of sleep, some fresh air and exercise and she’ll be back to her normal self. She’ll have forgotten all about this in the morning.”

“You’re being very serene and philosophical tonight,” Kyra gave up on the pretense that she was going to eat any more and began to gather the plates. “How much ale have you drunk while we’ve not been looking?”

“He’s grinning like a pig in mud because Phoibe still thinks the sun shines out of his doubtlessly scarred ass.” Kassandra got up to help.

“Leave it,” Praxos laughed, waving expansively. “I’m going to be up for a little while longer. I’ll clean up. You two go to bed, you look exhausted.”

Kassandra lagged behind Kyra at little as they entered their bedroom, gazing down the corridor towards Phoibe’s door. Perhaps she should try and make peace before she went to bed. No sooner had she thought it than the thin crack of light beneath the door was extinguished as the lamp was blown out.

“You look preoccupied love?” Kyra observed later as Kassandra sat on the bed, removing her sandals. “Praxos is right you know.” She walked over and eased herself between her knees. “She’ll have forgotten all about it by morning. And so will you. I suspect I’m the only one here with any real talent for bearing a grudge,” she gave a hopeful smile, but Kassandra wasn’t looking. She had her hands resting on Kyra’s hips but was still gazing down at her feet.

“I sort of like tucking her in,” she said quietly. “She didn’t even give me a hug.”

“Because she was feeling cross and petulant and wanted to hurt your feelings.” Kyra raised Kassandra’s chin. “I’ll give you a hug if you like?” She tilted her head.

Resting her head against Kyra’s breasts, feeling her arms wind about her shoulders to pull her in close, Kassandra closed her eyes and sighed. It had been a long, tiring day and tomorrow was promising something similar. They should go to bed. Kyra seemed of a similar mind, lifting Kassandra’s chin again to kiss her softly, before taking a step back and reaching for her hand.

As they lay spooned closely, Kyra’s fingers interlaced with Kassandra’s and her thumb gently caressing her wrist, an earlier comment of Praxos’ re-surfaced.

“So how did you shoot Praxos in the ass?” she whispered, almost able to feel Kyra rolling her eyes in response.

“I was hoping you’d forgotten that. It was an accident.”

“I should hope so. He was doing his best after all.” She gave Kyra a playful squeeze.

“Poor Praxos, he was in the bushes, answering… well one of nature’s demands, I’m not sure which. And I certainly wasn’t going to ask him. He came raging out sorting his clothes, with my arrow waving like a dog’s tail behind him.”

“What in Hades were you doing?” Kassandra chuckled.

“We’d been out hunting the previous day, caught nothing, nearly blundered into a patrol, so we couldn’t even wander around foraging,” Kyra defended. “We were starving, I heard a noise in the bushes, immediately imagined roast piglet.”

“So I’m guessing he has a memento of your time together, somewhere he will never show it.”

“He has a messy scar, if that’s what you’re asking,” Kyra sighed. “He tried his best, but it's difficult to stitch your own ass… apparently. Anyway the Daughters had taught me how to stitch a wound, but it's one thing working on a calm huntress who’s talking you through it. Quite another closing a wound you inflicted yourself on a man who’s never been other than kind to you. He was red as a Spartan standard and my hands were trembling like leaves. And yes that was the first man’s ass I ever saw, or part of one at least.”

“It’s hairy, right?” Kassandra teased.

“Kassandra!” Kyra kicked her shin playfully. “That is an entirely inappropriate question.”

“That’s a yes then,” she said with satisfaction. “If it was smooth and hairless as a baby’s you’d have just said so.”

“Regardless of hair, he never raised a hand to me, didn’t call me names, didn’t really shout all that much considering. He just told me how dangerous it was to fire blindly like that and never to do it again. And then he went and got us some fish. Poseidon knows how because he’s a terrible fisherman.”

“Phoibe will teach him,” Kassandra said quietly, snuggling closer so that she was pressed against her from shoulder to foot. “I’m glad you had him,” she brushed a kiss to her ear. “You can tell me how you set his tunic on fire some other time.”

  
  


Phoibe was up and ready to go before Praxos came to knock on her door. Before he’d managed a second rap, it flew open and she was there, bow and quiver in her hand, Orion yawning by her side.

“Have you been waiting for me?” he smiled, patting her cheek with one hand and the dog’s head with the other.

“Just fastened my sandals.” She indicated her feet. “I’m wearing my old ones because they’re broken in for stalking.”

“Very wise,” he nodded.

“And I’m using my old bow, because I haven’t hunted for ages and I want to use one I’m used to.” She wasn’t sure how much of the new bow business Praxos had been privy to, but it seemed safe to assume that he was aware of it.

Praxos had not only seen the bow, but had been informed of just how successful its delivery had been.  “Another wise choice,” he settled, taking the weapons from her. “Let’s go and get some breakfast inside us before we set off.”

As they passed Kyra’s bedroom door Phoibe stopped, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

“What is it?” he stopped at the top of the stairs, looking back, as Orion trotted down to go outside and pee.

“I just want to go and say sorry.” She had a hand on the door. “About last night. I was mean to Kassandra. I feel bad.”

“Ah!” He held up a hand. “Perhaps later eh? Not while they’re -”

Phoibe put her ear to the door for a moment. “It’s all right,” she interrupted, “they’re not doing anything.”

“All the same -” Praxos blushed. It was too late to dissuade her though, she was already sidling inside.

There was just enough light from one low-burning lamp for her to see them spooned close together, the covers twisted about their waists, Kassandra’s chin resting on top of Kyra’s head.  She padded over quietly and contemplated how best to do this. They were fast asleep. Perhaps Praxos was right, and she should do it later. But then Selene always said you should clear the air as soon as you could, in case you fell off a cliff before you got the chance. Though Phoibe noticed that she never used that example around Kassandra.

Creeping up to the bed she reached out a cautious hand. She’d seen more than her fair share of breasts growing up, and Kyra’s were right up there she decided. All the same she didn’t think she’d take kindly to being roused with an inadvertent hand on one of them. And this was a woman who kept a cruel looking dagger under her desk Phoibe reminded herself. She leaned over as far as she could and tapped Kassandra’s elbow lightly. It took a couple of attempts before she mumbled and opened her eyes, blinking owlishly.

“What is it Phoibe?” She raised her head. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes. I wanted to say sorry before I went hunting.”

Kyra was becoming disturbed by the voices and Phoibe could see her wriggling suggestively against Kassandra. She gave her a wary look, but Kassandra seemed more interested in Phoibe right now. She’d leaned up on one elbow and was brushing her hair back from her eyes, smiling at her.

“I didn’t want to be mean to you,” Phoibe grimaced apologetically. “I don’t know why I did. It took me ages to get to sleep last night. I missed giving you a hug,” she finished quietly.

“Me too!" Kassandra sat up and without any warning to Kyra, leaned over to haul Phoibe onto the bed.

“Ow gods damn it, what the -” She rolled over, nursing her ribs where Phoibe’s knees had collided with them. “Hell’s teeth Kassan -oh!” She realised what was happening and tugged frantically at the covers, to little avail as Phoibe was lying on them, wrapped in Kassandra’s arms.

“This is better,” she grinned, kissing Phoibe’s head. 

“I’m sorry I was grumpy.” She nuzzled against Kassandra’s neck, immediately feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her. “I don’t know why I was really.”

“I was grumpy too, little one. It's all right, let’s forget about it now. Kyra?”

“I don’t believe I _ was  _ grumpy actually,” she muttered, sounding as though she was making up for it now, as she struggled with the covers. There was very little point by now, Phoibe thought, she’d been standing by the bed for long enough to critique her physique and she’d only thought nice things after all.

“No, I mean, get in on the hug!” Kassandra laughed. “Phoibe’s giving hugs again.”

“I had a lovely hug. last. _night!_” Kyra yanked the sheet hard enough to inch Phoibe up the bed.

“Stop fussing with that,” Kassandra’s arms were easily long enough to reach her where she lay. “Phoibe’s got enough clothes on for everyone.”

Kyra could not recall a comparable moment in the whole of her life so far. But after a few moments of embarrassed rigidity, she decided that it actually felt quite nice to lie here with her lover’s arms protectively around them both, Phoibe’s solid little body between them. Even given the rude awakening, it would be very easy indeed to fall asleep like this, snuggled up together in the dimness of pre-dawn. In fact she’d actually done so when Kassandra spoke again a couple of minutes later.

“This is lovely, but you have a date with some rabbits.” She leaned up and prodded Phoibe softly in the chest. “Though I’m sure they’d rather you stayed in bed,” she grinned. “Make sure to catch enough so that you can bring a few home for supper,” she advised, as Phoibe clambered gracelessly over her and out of bed.

“What do you mean?” She looked back, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes as she saw Kyra tucking the loosened sheet neatly under her arms. “Aren’t we bringing them all back?”

“No. You’re going hunting for the orphanage… for rabbits for the orphanage obviously, not orphans, they’ve got plenty of those. Though if you find one of course, take it with you.”

“Kassandra!” Kyra punched her in the arm. “Really?”

She grinned shamelessly and looked back at Phoibe. “Even growing orphans can only eat so much. Catch plenty then we can have Cymone’s rabbit pie, it's gorgeous. And you’ll be doing everyone a favour, those rabbits breed like, well like rabbits, the wolves can’t keep up with them.”

She had not been exaggerating Phoibe realised much later as she crouched beside Praxos looking out over the meadow. They had eaten a substantial breakfast before he had taken her to make a prayer at the altar of Artemis.

“Whenever we can,” he nodded, in response to Phoibe’s query. “We couldn’t often come here under the old Archon, too many eyes looking for us. It's good to be able to come and have a word before we hunt now, without any fear.”

The sun was creeping over the horizon as they approached their destination, its pinkish glow warming the distant statue of the goddess, massive and stern, striding over the hills like a colossus, bow drawn as if to bring down the enemies of her people. Where had she been when that Podarkes man had been killing them, Phoibe wondered? Where had her eyes been fixed when his men were massacring her Daughters in their beds?

Her grim thoughts were driven out by the sight that greeted her moments later. The meadow was alive with rabbits. Everywhere she looked they were clustered, fattening themselves on the dew drenched grass. Perhaps this largesse was Artemis’ belated apology to her people, she thought, following Praxos to cover.

It was interesting to hunt with someone new, to study their technique, see what could be adapted for her own use. Kassandra needed more cover available than Phoibe, and Praxos much more still. Watching him stalk around the edge of the meadow, eyes ranging over their prey, she was struck by how very stealthy he managed to be for such a big man. Not as astonishingly shadowy as Kassandra could be, but much lighter on his feet than she would ever have imagined.

When they began to loose arrows he impressed her again. He wasn’t quite the marksman that Kassandra was, but his shots flew just as far. If they weren’t exaggerating Kyra’s skills because of their love for her, then that fiasco on Kephallonia had been an unfortunate exception and Phoibe found she was actually looking forward to seeing her hunt.

“That looks like a fine fat buck there.” Praxos crouched down and hissed in her ear. “I think he’s got your name on him.”

As she kissed her taut bowstring Phoibe was embarrassed to find her arm trembling. It had been some weeks since she’d last used her bow, that was true, but she knew that wasn’t the only reason for her nerves. She didn’t want to miss in front of Praxos. She wanted him to see her bring down her prey, quickly and cleanly. She wanted him to be proud of her.  Slowly, she released the tension from her bow and bowed her head a little, feeling herself blushing. Immediately his heavy hand was on her shoulder.

“A wise decision little hunter,” he squeezed. “Your eye is out of practice. All that time on ship. And you need to wake up those muscles. Take a big deep breath, hold it.” She followed his instructions. “Now, let it out so slowly and gently that a candle flame wouldn’t flicker. Done? Right, shake out those shoulders, rid yourself of that tension. He’s still there. Artemis has bid him wait for you.”

This time when she kissed the bow string it felt right, her muscles remembered exactly what she wanted them to do, her eye was steady, the buck looked enormous. As she relaxed her fingers and felt the arrow take flight, it was like slipping on a well worn pair of sandals and as the buck toppled over dead, Praxos’ hiss of “yes” was as delighted as her own.

By the time the sun was high over their heads they had a great pile of rabbits beside them and two surprise hares.

“We’ll keep those.” He nodded at them as they sat gulping water and munching at the bread and cheese he’d had the foresight to bring. “I know someone who enjoys hare,” he winked. 

“You?” Phoibe grinned happily. 

It had been a wonderful morning. After her initial nerves it was as though she’d never put down the bow. Praxos praised her successes, commiserated over her misses, tweaked her posture here and there, gave her tips now and again. And watching Orion race around the meadow to retrieve their prey was a revelation. He had sat throughout, watching intently, following every shot, not making so much as a whimper, despite his evident excitement. Great strands of slobbery drool trailed down almost to his paws by the time Praxos released him and he shot across the field, muzzle glued to the ground, racing back time and again to drop a warm body at Phoibe’s feet.

Praxos laughed around a mouthful of cheese and shook his head.  “No, not me, though I do like a bit of hare. They're for a friend of mine, you met her the other night but I bet you don’t remember.”

“Her?” Phoibe waggled her eyebrows playfully. “Is she pretty?”

“You spend too much time around Kassandra. It’s a good thing she’s off guarding the Archon today. Nike is just a friend, I’ve known her for a long time. As a friend,” he pretended to scowl.

“You didn’t answer my question, I notice.”

“She’s a very attractive woman, but I have known her for far too long to think about her like that. You’ll like her.” He rummaged around in the small bag by his side and produced an apple. “Eat up. Then we need to get these bunnies to the orphanage.”

“Will we gut them here?” Phoibe eyed their haul as she crunched noisily. “Orion could have a little treat.”

“If he ate all that offal in one go he’d be farting like a cyclops all night and Kyra would have us in her office for a dressing down,” he laughed. “We’ll do it when we get there, he has to share it with the cats.”  Praxos strung the bulk of the rabbits together for the orphanage and nodded at the remainder.  “Those are ours. We won’t spend long with the little ones, then we can get those back to Cymone and she can make us her famous pie.”

Phoibe shouldered the smaller string and the two hares, Praxos their weapons and the rest and they set off, the breeze providing a little welcome relief from the heat of the day.

“I’ve never had rabbit in a pie.” Phoibe kicked a pebble down the path. Seeing movement, Orion raced after it, snuffling around puzzled when there seemed to be nothing to find.

“Oh Phoibe!” Praxos looked skywards and held up a hand. “If the gods on Olympus had a choice between ambrosia and Cymone’s rabbit pie, they would choose the pie every time. Light golden crust, soft, yielding vegetables and the flesh! So juicy. Melting in your mouth. I’ve no idea how she does it.”

Phoibe was relieved that Kassandra hadn’t been with them for that outburst, but her mouth was watering all the same. The bread and cheese had been welcome but it wouldn’t fill for very long she thought, as they approached the outskirts of the city.

“Nearly there,” he announced at last. “That building with the low wall in front you see?” He pointed.

There were a number of children outside, clustered around playing marbles and knuckle bones, a few of the bigger ones throwing a ball to each other. Phoibe could hear shouting and laughter already.

“I bet they’ll be excited to meet you.” Praxos was busy fishing a loose eyelash from his eye and didn’t realise he was talking to himself for a few moments. “I know Kassandra has... where are you?” He turned on his heel and found her, tailing along behind him at a snail’s pace. “What’s the matter, little one?” He crouched down, taking in her anxiously crumpled brows, the way she was nervously nipping at her lower lip.

“Nothing,” she shook her head.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” He placed the back of his hand to her forehead, she didn’t feel feverish. “What is it, Phoibe? Don’t you feel well?”

“It’s just -” She glanced over his shoulder towards the gaggle of noisy children.

He nodded as it suddenly dawned on him that she’d probably never met so many children at one time. Raised in a brothel as she was, alongside a young mercenary with a taste for the ladies, it was entirely possible that she’d never had a friend of her own age. Her conversation and demeanor certainly suggested a child that had spent most of her time around adults.

Kyra had had a very similar upbringing in that regard he reminded himself. He could recall a couple of occasions when he’d found her crouched in cover, fascinated and nervous, watching farm children playing. On the one hand wanting to approach and make friends, but on the other knowing she wasn’t allowed to, even if she’d had the first idea how to go about it.

“That’s a lot of children no?” He looked back over his shoulder. “A bit too many to meet all at once perhaps?” He stroked his beard and considered. “Would you like a little something sweet to follow that bread and cheese?” he asked, getting to his feet and rummaging in his coin pouch.

“What?” Phoibe frowned, puzzled. “I mean sorry? I -”

“I was thinking.” He produced a coin, tossing it into the air and watching as she reflexively caught it. “There’s a very good baker just over the way there, with the barrel outside, you can’t miss it, your nose won’t let you. He makes these date pastries. Gods they’re good. Half of this is date pastries,” he patted his belly grinning. “Why don’t you get yourself a couple, find a nice quiet place to eat them and just watch those youngsters for a bit? Get a feel for them? Like the rabbits this morning. Maybe you’ll spot one you think looks nice that you’d like to play with?”

“Play with?” Phoibe seemed confused by the concept. All her time on Kephallonia had been spent doing chores and lessons, working and training. 

“Or to talk to, doesn’t have to be playing,” he shrugged, his heart aching for this little girl as well as the one he’d raised himself years ago. He would do better this time, he decided. This was a different set of circumstances. And to start, Kassandra was going to spend time with Phoibe tomorrow regardless of what Kyra’s duties might be. If she had to go and visit the women’s bath house he would blindfold himself and go with her.

“I... ” she looked at the coin in her hand. “I don’t need money, I have some.”

“I know,” he defended. “It’s not charity. You can buy me one next time. That’s what friends do.”

“All right." She looked up, her fingers closing around the coin. “Shall I get one for you as well?”

“Better not.” He shouldered the game. “Melina always has something for me when I visit... oh, go then.” He produced a second coin. “Just one though, or I’ll have to have my armour let out. You know where you’re going? Give me those rabbits, you don’t want to be mauling those about when you’re trying to eat a nice pastry.”

As they got closer a couple of the children spotted his familiar figure and began to wave excitedly, shouting for the others.

“I won’t be long, little one,” he patted her cheek. “And if you want to come over and say hello, you can do that. If you don’t want to do that today, that’s all right too.”

Phoibe nodded gratefully and watched as he strode off towards the orphanage, a gaggle of children running forward to mill around his legs. He stopped by the door, turned back and gave her a wave before ducking his head and disappearing inside.

  
  



	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe contemplates friendship, and pastries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves. fishbone76 has bestowed upon us a shot of the heartthrob of Mykonos!

Praxos was not wrong about the pastries Phoibe decided, giving a moan of pleasure as she took a second bite. They were the perfect combination of soft, chewy exterior and sticky, spiced filling. She’d taken her purchase up onto the roof of the bakery to enjoy them undisturbed whilst also having an excellent view of the surrounding streets.

Praxos was still inside the large building across from her, presumably preparing their morning’s haul. His arrival had cleared the front yard, the children abandoning their games to trail in after him like ducklings. Noisy, bouncy ducklings.

An errant blob of filling plopped onto her knee and she bent to lick it clean. When she looked up again the yard was no longer deserted. A thin, gangly boy with a mop of unruly hair had come out. Phoibe eyed him curiously as he made his way around the yard, hugging the walls, Gauging his height against the door she judged him to be shorter than her, and skinny.

Perhaps he’d like a pastry, she thought, looking down at the second one sitting on the warm tiles beside her. It would be a bit weird though, no? To hop down from the roof and go to give a pastry to a complete stranger? He looked like he could do with a couple all the same. They fed the children at this orphanage, surely? Besides what Praxos provided? Of course they did! She licked her sticky fingers and shook her head brusquely. Praxos and Kyra would never allow the children to go hungry. Neither would Kassandra now that she was here. She may have been a bit slap dash about some aspects of child rearing, but she’d always made sure that Phoibe was fed.

The boy seemed to be looking for something. A toy perhaps? There were a number scattered around the yard. Whatever it was, he located it behind the low wall that kept the children from straying out into the street. He disappeared from view briefly as he bent to retrieve it. When he stood up again he had a small black cat cradled in his arms. Phoibe smiled as she watched it butt its head softly against his face. She could imagine its musical purring. Praxos had said they had cats. How many, she wondered?

“Nikos!” a dark haired woman, roughly Selene’s age appeared at the door. “There you are sweetheart. You found her! Bring her inside now so she can eat with the others.”

The boy made his way back to her quickly enough, but still kept close to the walls. He wasn’t scared of the woman, reaching out for her hand happily enough. But he was scared about something.

Quiet resumed once they had gone back inside. Phoibe picked up her second pastry and began to eat, more slowly this time, as she observed the streets below. People were bustling about on their way to and from the market, a few small clusters stood here and there chatting. Off in the distance she could see the Adrestia’s mast. She peered intently, squinting against the sun. There was no one up there at the moment. She was tempted to run over and pay them a visit, but Praxos had said that he wouldn’t be long. If he came out and found her gone he might worry.

Frantic barking, followed by shouting and laughter drew her attention back to the orphanage. Orion was dancing about the yard, tail waving, bouncing up onto his hind legs as the children threw a ball for him. Phoibe experienced a pang of mean-spirited jealousy as she watched them chasing him around, laughing delightedly. Almost instantly she reproved herself. Like her, these children had also lost their parents. Unlike her they hadn’t been fortunate enough to be found by Kassandra. They weren’t being taught to hunt and fish and climb by a legendary Spartan demi-god with a poorly disguised soft heart.

Phoibe assumed that there was someone to comfort the children if they woke in the night, harried by nightmares. The kind sounding woman who had come searching for Nikos perhaps? But they didn’t get to snuggle down in the impregnable fortress of Kassandra’s embrace. Not only that, but they wouldn’t be going to bed tonight with Orion’s comforting, snuffly bulk dipping the mattress beside them. Who was she to begrudge them some time to play with him?

As she watched, a second woman, much younger than the first, came out carrying two chairs. She looked around for a moment, selecting a spot in the shade safely out of the path of giddy children and gamboling dog. Satisfied, she returned inside, re-emerging a few minutes later alongside another woman of a similar age. They each had a baby nestled in their arms. Not tiny, but small enough that Phoibe felt an ache in her throat at the sight of them.

One of the women was clearly a wetnurse, she realised, watching as she sat down, deftly unclipping the shoulder of her chiton and putting the baby to her breast. Phoibe had a last mouthful of pastry in her hand, but found that she no longer had an appetite for it. What had happened to their parents? Accident, illness, or something malicious? Whichever it was, they would never know them now. They would have no memories at all to comfort or torment them as they grew older. And what about the young nurse? What had brought her here, chatting with her friend as she suckled another woman’s child at her breast. Why did she have milk to spare?

Phoibe wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Sad things happened all the time, and crying about it never mended any of them. She raised the last morsel of pastry to her mouth, but her appetite had died. There were birds on the neighbouring rooftops. Today would be their lucky day. As she began to pluck apart the pastry and scatter it over the tiles, she heard the tenor of the children’s voices change. Looking up to see what had caught their attention she instantly recognised the approaching figure of Kassandra, magnificent in red and bronze, and a half pace in front of her, Kyra. Or the Archon, she corrected, taking note of the laurels at her brow.

If anything, Kyra’s arrival was greeted with even more excitement than Praxos’, despite the fact that she didn’t come bearing supper. The children clustered around her, jostling for position, eager to take her hand, talking over each other. Phoibe watched, bird feeding forgotten, as Kyra touched hands, brushed cheeks, stroked hair dusted by busy play.

Kassandra was clearly aiming for “all business”, Phoibe smirked. Keeping position behind Kyra she had her head erect, shoulders back, one hand resting lightly on the pommel of her sword. But before long the children began to fan out, milling around her, tugging on the tassets of her belt, the smaller ones clinging onto her legs. She felt a pang of jealousy again as she saw Kassandra’s posture relax. That was all right, she told herself sternly, as she watched her reach down to ruffle a few tousled heads. She might be Kassandra to them, she could hear them calling her name even from here. But she wasn’t _ their _Kassandra.

“We should call in at the orphanage while we’re close,” Kyra cast an eye skywards. They’d been out far longer than she’d anticipated and whilst the supply distribution was working exactly as planned there had been an undercurrent of tension. But not on account of supplies she’d quickly realised.

As she’d stood by the docks talking with fishermen about the hit to their livelihoods, she was sure that she’d heard whispering behind them, and almost certain that impudent snickering had followed. She did her best to ignore it, instead making note of who would need extra supplies for their families, who would be best helped by moving their employment to the warehouses and farms till this was over, but there it was again.

Kassandra had heard it the first time, she was sure of that. She could hear a mouse sneeze in the next room, it was uncanny. The second time, she not only heard it, she demonstrated her awareness, turning slowly on her heel and glowering at a couple of shifty looking dock workers, who were sitting on a mooring post drinking from a skin that almost certainly did not contain water.

Kyra had inched a little closer, just enough to brush Kassandra’s fingers with her own, very discreetly. It had been enough to calm her, and thankfully her thunderous scowl had been enough to make the two gossipers reconsider their seating arrangements. It had been a minor incident but enough to set Kyra’s hackles up for the rest of the morning. Kassandra had sensed it, moving closer to her as they continued their business, her eyes and ears constantly open as they moved about the city.

The tension, added to the fact that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, would be nibbling away at her patience, Kyra knew. They should get back, the day was hot and they were both hungry and thirsty as well as tense. But they were so close to the orphanage now.

“The orphanage?” Kassandra’s tone was non-committal.

“I’d like to make sure that they have everything they need.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty certain that you prioritized their supplies before you did anything else. And they’ve had Praxos and Phoibe scything through the rabbit population on their behalf this morning.”

“It’s one thing prioritizing matters,” Kyra was fiddling with her bracelets. “It’s another to have them run smoothly. I’d just like to make sure.”

They walked on a little way before Kassandra replied, a laugh lightening her voice. “I’m sure everything is running like a well greased wheel, just as it is in the rest of the city. If you want to go and see the children, just say that you want to see the children.”

“May we?” she glanced at her, a hopeful smile quirking her lips.

“You are the Archon, Archon,” Kassandra said dryly, dipping her head. “You say we’re going to see the children, then we’re going to see the children.”

“I know you’re tired and hungry, and we’re both tense, but... I’d really like to see how they’re doing.”

They’d spent long enough discussing it that they were almost there now. Before Kassandra could reply, children’s voices rang out. They’d been spotted.

“Archon! You’re back! Melina said you would come back, but you were gone for so long! We thought pirates had got you!”

Kyra shook her head, laughing fondly as they flocked around her.

“Weren’t you afraid? To travel so far? Did you see any huge sea monsters?! Were there pirates? Did you see any pirates?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, because it sounds as though you’ve imagined some very exciting stories while we’ve been away. But no. No sea monsters. And no pirates. And no. I wasn’t afraid because Kassandra was with me all the time.”

The gaggle of excitable youngsters began to spread out a bit as Kyra encouraged them towards the door. Kassandra found herself surrounded as they gathered about her, reaching for her hands and tugging on her armour for attention.

“What would you have done if pirates had caught the Archon? Or if a big sea monster had grabbed the ship? And the Archon had fallen overboard? And the monster had tried to eat her?”

“Whoa, whoa!” she held up her hands, grinning affably, the morning’s irritations forgotten. “So many questions! If we’d met pirates I would have had a pleasant talk with them. I’m very good friends with the Queen of the Pirates, so we’d have been fine.” There was some chattering at this and she realised that questions about the Pirate Queen might be best avoided for a number of reasons. “Monsters!” she interrupted. “We didn’t see any. I know that’s disappointing. But if we had? Well, the Archon is a fierce fighter. Between the two of us, we’d have had nothing to fear. And if she’d fallen overboard?” She shot Kyra an arch look as they reached the door. “Well she’s also an excellent swimmer.”

“You missed a number of opportunities for self aggrandizement there Misthios,” Kyra smirked. “Well done.”

“I know,” she whispered, ducking her head and following her into the cool interior. “I deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

“We’ll discuss potential bonuses when we return to the villa,” Kyra smiled, holding out her hands to greet Melina.

“Archon! Praise Artemis you have returned safely.” They embraced briefly. “And Misthios Kassandra also.” She dipped her head politely. “The children were determined that you had left on some great monster hunting odyssey.”

“I’m hoping those days are behind me,” she felt a tugging at her boot and looked down to see a dusty faced toddler about to put one of the straps in their mouth. She scooped up the child and eyed them warily. They were incredibly sticky, though she couldn’t see the source.

Kyra spotted her holding the wide eyed youngster at arm’s length.

“Permit me, Misthios.” She took them from her and gamely perched the toddler on her hip. “Goodness! Someone’s been eating something sweet. I hope,” she patted their sticky hands with apparent disregard for the danger to her chiton.

The sound of familiar rumbling laughter from the kitchen area made them both look over.

“They’re still here?”

“They?” Melina frowned. “Our dear Praxos is here. He came weighed down with game for us.”

“No Phoibe?” Kassandra asked, absent-mindedly wiping her fingers on the skirt of her tunic.

“No, though he did say that she had been of great help on his hunt this morning. I would have liked to thank her, but he said she was feeling a little shy.”

If Kassandra had been asked to produce a list of adjectives to describe Phoibe, “shy” would have been very near the bottom.

“I believe she has gone to the bakery for a pastry. No doubt well earned,” Melina continued.

That sounded far more in character Kassandra thought, reassured. A light tap on her thigh drew her attention down again. Kyra still had the sticky child. They seemed to be nodding off against her breast now. That chiton was definitely destined for the laundry. But there was nothing to say that additional tacky urchins weren’t toddling around. 

Looking down she was relieved to see that it was Nikos, standing knitting his fingers together and gazing up at her with big solemn eyes. “Hello, my young friend,” she hunkered down, smiling. 

He looked a good deal healthier, not so pallid and his cuts and scrapes had healed well. But he was still thin. There was no shortage of food, she knew that. Kyra insisted that supplies to the orphanage be not only generous, but of good quality. The children ate as well as anyone on Mykonos, and were generally healthy, sturdy little creatures.

There would always be differences in physiques of course. Not just between individuals but as each child grew. She knew from observing Phoibe that she would swing from well furnished to gawky depending on whether a growth spurt was imminent. Nikos was probably around the age that she had been when Kassandra had found her. He’d had weeks of care here at the orphanage, but still his joints protruded and his eyes were shadowed.

“Would you like to see Nyx?” he asked. His voice was quiet and raspy, as though it didn’t see enough use.

“Nyx?” she tilted her head.

“My cat?”

“Oh! Of course! I certainly would. Lead the way my friend,” as she stood up she dangled her hand as low as she could without making it obvious by stooping, and was pleased when he reached up and took hold of her fingers. Despite the heat of the day his hand felt cool and dry.

Nyx was lying on a folded blanket in the corner, looking for all the world like a jewel eyed, cat shaped void in the universe. Nikos sat down beside her, tucking his thin legs neatly beneath him.

Kassandra lowered herself as carefully as she could, armour jingling and creaking, sword and greaves scraping as she settled, cross legged in front of him. The cat gave a surprised little meep as he gently scooped her up, before rubbing her face against his chin, purring like a bee-hive.

“She likes you,” Kassandra smiled. “And she’s growing to be a beautiful cat. You must take very good care of her.”

“I called her Nyx because she’s black like the night,” he buried his nose in her fur. “And because she likes to hunt when it's dark. You can hold her.”

Before she could decline, he’d placed the vibrating animal in her lap. “It’s a good name for her.” She tickled behind its ears where the fur was soft as thistle down. “Is she a good hunter?”

“She’s caught two rats,” he nodded, his eyes fixed on his pet. “One was nearly as big as her. There aren’t many left now, Melina says.”

He was certainly more talkative. Kassandra thought back to the pallid waif who had been so hesitant to join the conversation on their first meeting. Nyx got to her feet and slid from her lap back over to Nikos, curling up on his knee and closing her eyes. Kassandra laughed and nodded. “She definitely knows who she prefers.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, eyes fixed on the cat, stroking her flank steadily. “Are you going to stay here, this time?”

She was taken aback for a moment. The leather straps of her armour creaked as she shifted uncomfortably. “On Mykonos? Yes, of course.”

“You said that you would last time." He didn’t look up.

“Yes. I did. And then I went away.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t entirely trust me now, Nikos.”

“Melina said that you went to see your family?”

“I did. And I went to ask my friend Phoibe if she wanted to come and live here with me.”

“The one who helped you to fight a bear?” He glanced up to see her nod. “What did she say?”

“She said yes, thank goodness. Because I missed her.”

“Did she come back with you?” He waited for her nod again. “And this time you are going to stay?”

“Absolutely. Perhaps next time I come to see you I’ll be able to bring her with me. You could introduce her to Nyx. She likes cats.”

“But you promise you’re going to stay this time?” He met her eyes with such intensity that she gulped.

“Yes Nikos,” she replied quietly. “I do.”

“To protect us?”

She nodded. “From bad animals, yes. I promise.”

“And bad men?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“If I have to, yes Nikos." She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. It felt like bird bones beneath her fingers.

“He seems to have come out of himself a little.” Kyra and Melina were watching them. “How is he sleeping?”

“Better since he’s had the cat. He’s been inseparable from her since Misthios Kassandra dropped her in his lap. He still has nightmares of course, but fewer and he settles more quickly if the cat is there.”

“He’s still so thin, though.” Kyra shifted the sleeping toddler on her hip.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take him?” Melina was eyeing a string of sticky drool that was soaking into Kyra’s chiton.

She shook her head. “It will wash. Nikos though? Is he still not eating well?”

Melina heaved a sigh and folded her arms. “He picks at most things. Won’t touch meat. Flesh, he insists on calling it. He’s fond of bread, will eat most vegetables, but not in any great quantity. The fish thing is unfortunate. We could get him to eat fish quite well.”

“Does he like sweet things?” Kyra frowned thoughtfully.

“What child doesn’t,” Melina laughed. “Rhea says he needs something nourishing, something to put a bit of fat and muscle on him.”

Kyra went over to the kitchen door, listing a little with the weight of the sleeping toddler on her hip. Praxos had finished dressing the rabbits for the cook, washed up and was now swinging two of the older children, one hanging on each arm. “Ah Kyra, I thought I heard you out there.”

“You had a productive morning I see!” She nodded at the mound of rabbits on the table.

“Didn’t he just Archon?” The cook eyed him admiringly. “There’s no searching around for the meat in your stew, when you have Praxos hunting for you.”

“And Phoibe,” he laughed, flexing playfully and lifting the giggling children even higher. “She’s over at the bakery by the way,” he met Kyra’s eyes. “I’ll explain later.”

“I’m glad you mentioned the bakery,” she nodded. “I have an idea for the children. Nikos particularly.”

“That lad needs some meat on his bones,” he shook his head, frowning sadly.

“Rather like I did when we first joined the rebels, remember?”

“You were a skinny little thing, that’s for sure. But it was all muscle. And you soon started filling out when you got regular meals.”

“Remember those buns they used to make? Filled with that paste? Beans mashed and sweetened, with spices when we could get them.”

“I do!” He lowered the children carefully. “Gods I’d forgotten all about those. Damn, they were good, even done in the ashes of the campfire, like we had to. Nourishing too.”

“Imagine how much more tempting they would be, made with finer flour and more honey, better spices?” Kyra arched an eyebrow. “The grain that Alector left? Has it been milled?”

“Indeed! As soon as you returned I took the liberty of telling Aegeus that you’d authorized its release. I bet it's just waiting for the baker now.”

“Would you go over and explain to him how to make those buns?” Kyra stroked his arm fondly. “I imagine all the children will like them, but hopefully they’ll appeal to Nikos’ sweet tooth.”

  
  


Phoibe wiped crumbs from her chin with the back of her hand and gave a short whistle to catch Praxos’ attention as he emerged from the bakery some time later. He was licking his fingers clean as he looked up, having taken the opportunity to sample the wares while he delivered Kyra’s instructions.

“I have your pastry,” she grinned. “I didn’t eat it.”

“Then you have impressive self restraint,” he braced his hands on his hips and stood looking up at her, smiling quizzically. “What is it with you and Kassandra scrabbling around on roofs?”

“People tend not to look up.” Phoibe shrugged, dropping his pastry down to him. 

“They’re good aren’t they?” He took a huge bite, leaving barely a token offering between his fingers.

“So good!” she nodded. “Are you nearly finished now?”

“Let me just go and tell Kyra that I’ve delivered her message.” He held up his hands for her to jump down to him. She didn’t hesitate this time, though she still declined when he asked if she wanted to accompany him and say hello.

She was surprised to see that he still had the hares in his hand when he re-emerged. The rabbits were presumably in the hessian sack over his shoulder alongside the bows. She’d expected him to have passed along the hares to the woman at the orphanage, and said so as they strolled along chatting companionably.

“That’s Melina. She’s not keen on hare. Too gamey. Lovely woman though. Looks after the little ones like they’re her own. She was sorry not to be able to thank you for your help.”

“That’s all right,” she evaded. “I enjoyed it. The babies? What happened to their parents?” She glanced up at him.

“Well for one of them, nothing,” he smiled down at her. “His mater is the wet nurse, she takes him to work with her. Everything doesn’t have to be a tragedy Phoibe.” He ruffled her hair. “Though in fairness the other is a sad story. Her mater passed delivering her. Even Rhea couldn’t save her and she’s a fine healer… but sometimes,” he gave a gloomy sigh. “The gods just have plans that we aren’t privy to. Her pater works on one of the farms. He drops her at the orphanage before he leaves for the fields, and collects her again when he’s done.” They strolled in silence for a while as she considered the new information. “Sad, but not as sad as you were imagining eh?” He tried to cheer her up.

“No, not quite,” she was frowning thoughtfully. “But there’s -”

“Well what have we here?” A woman’s voice interrupted her. She couldn’t identify it, but half recognised it. Turning to look, she found that she half recognised the woman too, though she’d no idea from where.

“Nike!” Praxos sounded perkier than she’d heard him yet. “How are you my friend?” He bent to kiss her. “You look a little tired.”

“Just what a lady likes to hear,” she shook her head. “I was up at dawn helping the new healer. She’s rather nice, I like her. But you’re right. I’m ready for an hour or two in bed. By myself,” she winked at him.

He cleared his throat meaningfully and nudged his glance in Phoibe’s direction, but she was concentrating on the newcomer, chewing her lip thoughtfully as she tried to place her. She was about Praxos’ age, and whilst he was right and she did look a little weary, it did nothing to disguise how attractive she was. But there was more than that, she frowned.

“Ah, we have met.” Nike smiled down at her and extended a hand. “Though you won’t remember, as you were curled up in Praxos’ arms like a kitten. I’m Nike, and it's a great pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, Phoibe. Kassandra has told us so many stories of your adventures together that I’m sure at least some of them must be true.”

“Victory,” Phoibe whispered. She remembered now. Praxos had stopped to chat with her on the way back to the villa. She had sounded kind, and hadn’t she reminded Phoibe of someone?

“A gift for you,” Praxos handed over the hares. “Get Mikis to make you something nice while you take a nap. We don’t want you getting worn down as well.”

“That would never do,” she gave a good humoured laugh. “Do I have you to thank for these as well, my young hunter?” She reached up and pulled loose the twine that had been holding up her hair, running her fingers through the dark waves and shaking her head.

Kyra! Phoibe’s eyebrows shot up. She looked very like Kyra with her hair down and the light hitting her like that. But it must be a coincidence of course. Praxos hadn’t mentioned a relative when they were talking the other day. And if they were family, however distant, then surely Nike would have looked after Kyra when she was orphaned. She probably wasn’t old enough to be her mater, but certainly senior enough to take her under her wing.

“I got one of them,” she recalled herself. “That one with the white paw.”

“Then he shall be mine,” Nike smiled. “Mikis can have Praxos’ catch. How are you finding life on Mykonos, Phoibe? I swear to you it’s not always a den of sickness. Usually it's very pleasant.”

“It’s pretty. I haven’t really had time to look around yet. It's sad about the bad fish though. I’m sorry people are sick.”

“It’s a pity yes. Even more so for the families that lost loved ones. But the good news is that the others seem to be improving, they’re able to sit up and take some soup now.”

“Can I ask you a question please?” Phoibe tilted her head. 

“Always,” Nike nodded, she was smiling but her voice was sincere. “And if I am able to provide an answer, I will.”

“I thought people here were strange about healers? But you’re going and looking after people and no one seems to mind?”

“Firstly, I’m not the healer. My mother, Rhea is. And secondly, you may have already realised for yourself how very contradictory people can be. It's one thing holding to the idea that you should put your entire faith in the gods’ intervention when everyone is well. But when your child is weeping in pain and your prayers seem to be unheard, then it's much easier to decide that perhaps the gods might work through the healers after all.”

Phoibe nodded thoughtfully. It made sense. “If you’re not the healer, then?” 

Praxos had his mouth opened and his hand raised but it was ineffectual, Nike was already speaking.

“I’m a hetaera. Though I help my mater when she needs an extra pair of hands. We decided that if people were going to side eye our family, they might as well have good reason for it,” she laughed.

Phoibe grinned delightedly. “Like Selene! Not the side eye, I mean the hetaera.”

“Indeed,” she nodded. “I should have liked very much to go and meet her. Kassandra has told me a lot about her.”

“You’d like her,” Phoibe nodded eagerly. “She’s really lovely, and so are the others. So you know Kassandra then?” She could see Praxos shuffling uncomfortably in the background, though she had no idea why.

“We are friends, yes." Nike shot a careful glance in his direction. “The three of us sometimes meet up at the tavern to share a drink and a story.”

“You should come to the villa!” Phoibe waved a hand at Praxos. “Nike should come to the villa! Cymone is going to make this rabbit pie that is supposed to be the greatest thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Well, I have tasted some remarkable things,” Nike pursed her lips. “But sadly Cymone’s rabbit pie will not be among their number. Imagine the scandal Phoibe,” she gave her a wink. “A hetaera dining at the Archon’s villa!”

“But…?” Phoibe was genuinely perplexed. “Don’t hetaerae get invited to fancy parties and things all the time?”

“A fancy party is one thing sweetheart.” Her smile softened. “Sitting down with the family to supper, would be quite another.”

“That’s not fair, not when you’re a friend,” she pouted. “I don’t understand why people would be funny about it. They’re funny about some funny things here, Praxos,” she shook her head.

Nike laughed delightedly and cradled Phoibe’s cheek with a soft hand. She smelled gorgeous, she thought, instinctively leaning into her touch. Something rich and sweet that she’d never smelt before.

“Well, perhaps one day you will be Archon, Phoibe,” she bent and lowered her voice. “And then you can invite me to supper. Though by then I will be such a very old woman that I’ll be beyond scandal.”

“I can talk to you though, if I see you around? Can’t I?” Phoibe gave a nervous look in Praxos’ direction. “Like if you’re out shopping or something.”

“I don’t see why not,” he rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “After all, Nike is my friend and you’re my friend.”

“Any friend of Praxos' is a friend of mine.” Nike pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before standing up and examining the hares. “And now I should get these to Mikis if I want to eat tonight.”

Phoibe and Praxos made their goodbyes, and had walked on a few yards when Nike called him back.

“A quick word, if I may?” she waved a hand.

Phoibe watched as he strode back. Nike took hold of his arm and drew him into the shadow of a nearby building. Slipping a hand inside the folds of the plain chiton she was wearing she produced a small package, it looked like a sheaf of folded papers. Praxos took it, shaking his head and tucked it quickly behind his breast plate before kissing her cheek and returning to Phoibe’s side.

“Well, we should stride out.” He assumed a bright conversational tone, clearly intended to discourage questions.

“She’s lovely!” Phoibe waved back over her shoulder.

“Nike?” He was discreetly fumbling behind his breastplate. “She certainly is. The heart of a lion!”

“No… well I mean yes, I’m sure she does. But she’s…_ lovely._” She waggled her eyebrows.

Satisfied with the security of the papers he glanced down and saw her suggestive smirk. “What?” he darted a glance back but Nike had vanished into the tavern. “Well yes, I’m sure she is.” He could feel his ears growing warm.

“Does she have a girlfriend?” Phoibe was chewing on a grass stalk now, with a casual air.

“No!” He sounded somewhat scandalized. “At least, I don’t think so. What you have to understand Phoibe,” he licked his lips, “is that your upbringing was a little unusual in some respects, of course Kyra and Kassan -”

“A boyfriend then?” She decided nothing of value would come from allowing him to continue.

“I… not as far as I’m aware.”

“You should ask her to supper.” She nudged his hip. “Not at the villa I suppose,” she rolled her eyes. “On account of the hetaera thing, which is silly, and rude, if you ask me. But maybe at the tavern. Don’t drag your feet,” she lowered her voice. "There’s bound to be competition. She’s gorgeous. And she likes you, you can tell. She lets you kiss her.”

“On the cheek!” His voice shot up. “We are old friends. We go back ages, and we’ve been through a lot. She’s -” He stopped, considering his next words carefully. “She’s almost like family. The idea!” He blushed, bristling.

“Sorry.” She tossed aside the wet grass. “I just didn’t want you to miss your chance because you’re shy.”

“I am not shy!”

“Oh, I think you are, a little, with the ladies. But don’t worry, a lot of women like that.”

“The ladies?!” He stopped and looked down aghast. “Where on earth have you picked up all this?! Oh, right! Of course! Well, I might not be Kassandra,” he said primly. “But I can look out for myself.”

Phoibe wasn’t entirely convinced, but he seemed genuinely affronted by the mere idea of romancing Nike. Perhaps he had noticed her resemblance to Kyra as well, she thought suddenly. That would make it feel weird. “I’m sorry.” She walked closer. “My mouth runs away with me. Selene used to just push some apple in there to shut me up.”

After a dozen or so silent steps, he took her hand. “You ate the apple earlier. I need to remember to carry spares.”

  
  


The rest of the day Phoibe spent assisting with the creation of the famous rabbit pie.

“I’m trusting you not to go giving away my secrets to that baker.” Cymone narrowed her eyes playfully. “Can’t make a pie to save his life.”

“He can make a pastry though,” Phoibe defended.

She snorted dismissively and wiped her hands on her apron. “Indeed! Wait till you taste my pastries. Then we’ll see what you have to say.”

“I look forward to it,” she grinned.

“Well remember who feeds you every day before you deliver your verdict.” Cymone tweaked her nose.

The sun was sinking, the pie was almost ready and Cymone was preparing to leave when Kyra and Kassandra returned. Phoibe was halfway out to greet them when she heard Praxos hissing their names. Sidling into an alcove behind a large plant she peered through the fronds to watch.

He came downstairs, gesturing them towards the office door, his hand sliding behind his breastplate drawing forth the wad of papers. His voice was too low for her to make out the content of what he was saying, but they quickly headed into the office closing the door behind them.

Phoibe very much wanted to know what those sheets contained. The office was big and the doors were thick, but she reckoned that if she pressed her ear right up against it, she might be able to pick up some of the conversation. She was no more than a dozen paces away when she heard Cymone calling for her. It was time to prepare the table for supper.

By the time she’d finished, not only had the meeting concluded, but everyone had taken the time to wash and change. There was no way they had the mysterious papers on them. They were in Kyra’s office and odds were that they were in the desk with the substandard locks. There was no rush, she could investigate at her leisure, when they’d forgotten about them. More important matters lay before her, namely the delicious smelling pie.

Supper tonight was a much less sombre affair, though not entirely jolly. People were still sick after all and a couple had barely crossed the Styx. There wasn’t the same atmosphere of gloom though.

Phoibe was halfway through her second helping of pie, when Kyra spoke. She had managed to do justice to Cymone’s efforts tonight, and looked much better for a good meal and a couple of cups of wine.

“I am relieved to announce that Kassandra is entirely at your disposal tomorrow Phoibe.” She placed her fork on her plate with some finality and sat back in her chair.

“Great! So can you come hunting with us in the morning?” 

“Alas no.” Kassandra shook her head, pouting theatrically as she helped herself to more pie. She spotted Phoibe’s fallen expression and held up the spoon. “No frowning. We’re going shopping. It’s time for some new clothes.”

“Aw but couldn’t we do that after we’ve been hunting?”

“And roll up at the dressmaker’s covered in rabbit blood and sweat?” Praxos laughed. “That would present a fine first impression!”

He had a point she supposed. It wouldn’t be their last chance to go hunting together after all.

“And just as importantly, Savina is coming with us.” Kassandra poured more wine for herself and Kyra before topping up Praxos’ ale. “I don’t want her to be wondering when we’re going to need her. We’ll go after breakfast, then she can get on with the rest of her work once we’re finished.”

That was fair enough, Phoibe decided. Savina seemed nice, and she really hadn’t had a chance to get to know her yet.

Kassandra was sporting enough to not mention the previous evening's debacle when she accompanied Phoibe to bed later to tuck her in.

“Did you have a good time with Praxos?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed as Orion settled beside Phoibe.

She nodded, snuggling down and pulling the covers up around her neck. “It’s fun having Orion to retrieve for you. Have you been hunting with him? And Praxos is a really good shot. Not as good as you,” she stage whispered. “But good all the same. We got a couple of hares too. Praxos gave them to your friend Nike. She’s lovely isn’t she? She smells delicious. I wonder what it is? You should ask her when you see her next.”

“Ah, you met Nike!” Kassandra could feel a blush warming her cheeks and got to her feet, walking over to the window and fiddling with the shutters. “Open or closed?” 

“Open please. She says that she can’t come to the villa. I don’t think that’s fair. I mean she’s friends with you and Praxos, she should be able to come and see her friends, I think.”

“I do see your point, Phoibe.” Kassandra resumed her seat beside her. “But there are, well, rules when you live with the Archon. Sometimes they seem strange, or foolish, or unfair, but it's the way it is. Things are less casual than on Kephallonia.”

“But I can talk to her, right?” Phoibe yawned. “If I meet her in town.”

Kassandra gave it some consideration. They hadn’t really thought about that. In fairness it was only an issue at all because of those bloody pictures. When she got her hands on whoever was behind them they’d be wearing their fingers in a pouch round their neck. Saying no would only fuel Phoibe’s indignant curiosity, she knew that. 

“I don’t see why not. She’s a thoroughly nice woman. She reminds you of home a bit I expect, eh?” She stroked Phoibe’s hair back from her brow.

“Mmm, I think Selene would like her,” she nodded sleepily.

“By the way?” Kassandra tried to sound casual. “You didn’t come and say hello at the orphanage?”

Phoibe looked a trifle shifty and avoided her eyes. “I was eating pastries and I didn’t have enough for everyone.”

“I don’t think that’s the real reason, is it?” She watched her worrying the edge of the blanket between her fingers.

“There were so many children.” She admitted at last. “And Praxos said you’d told them about me and... I didn’t really know many children on Kephallonia.”

Kassandra had never really given it much thought, but it hit her now. “Why was that?” she asked, after an awkward pause. “Do you know?”

“Just _things_.” Phoibe sounded evasive.

“What sort of things? Because of me?” She licked her lips nervously.

“Just things!” she shrugged.

“Phoibe?” Kassandra took her hand.

“Sometimes,” she conceded reluctantly. “And sometimes it was because I lived with Selene and the others. Most often it was because of Markos though. A lot of people really don’t like him, you know. Not so much the children, but their parents.”

“Oh gods Phoibe,” she groaned. “I should have thought. I didn’t really have many friends my age growing up, I didn’t think. I’m sorry Phoibe.”

“Don’t be.” She shook her head. “I like the friends I have much better.”

As she hugged Kassandra goodnight, she pressed a hard kiss to her cheek. “I wouldn’t swap you for anyone,” she whispered.

Kassandra didn’t reply, but her embrace tightened and Phoibe felt her kissing her forehead. She’d never missed playing with other children. Why would she? Who in their right mind would swap Kassandra of Sparta for some boring goat farmer’s son?

  
  



	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we go shopping!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone been idly speculating as to what Savina looks like? Brace yourself! Round of applause for fishbone76.

Phoibe was sitting at the kitchen table, swinging her feet and eating porridge when Kassandra wandered in, fastening her belt and glancing around the room as though she’d lost something.

“Here she is at last!” Cymone looked up from skinning onions. “We thought you were lost in the pathways of Eros.”

“No. We were communing with Hypnos actually.” She seemed uncharacteristically reluctant to rise to the teasing. Where’s Savina?”

“That’s a very good question.” Cymone wiped her hands and went to ladle porridge into a bowl, setting it down on the table as Kassandra took a seat. “I rather thought she might have bypassed the kitchen and gone straight up to rattle your cage.”

“No, that’s why we’re running a bit late. Sorry to keep you waiting Phoibe.” She began to eat.

“No problem!” She’d finished her own porridge and was tossing grapes into the air, catching the majority in her mouth. “I filled the time with porridge. Perhaps Savina is just running a bit late herself.”

Kassandra shook her head and reached for the milk jug, emptying the last dregs into her cup. “Savina does not run late in my experience. The number of times I’ve wished that she did,” she finished wryly.

Kyra sauntered in at this point, dressed and coiffed, but without the fresh laurels that Savina generally arranged. She stopped in the doorway and looked about as though her assistant might be hiding in the pantry.

“Not here.” Phoibe shook her head, before gathering up the three grapes that had missed her mouth the first time round.

“So I see,” Kyra sounded perplexed as she came to sit opposite Kassandra. “Well this is... unprecedented.” She looked down as Cymone slid a plate in front of her.

“The eggs are a little dry Archon, we were expecting you sooner,” she sounded apologetic. “Shall I make you some fresh? Kassandra will make short work of these, no doubt. Or the goats.”

“No, thank you, this is perfect.” Kyra barely looked at them as she raised a forkful to her lips. “I hope she’s not ill. You don’t suppose she’s inadvertently eaten fish do you?”

“Let’s not start thinking the worst.” Kassandra leaned back and gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Tell you what. Let me finish my breakfast.” She tore a chunk of bread from the remains of the loaf on the table and began to clean her bowl. “If she’s not here by then, I’ll ride over and -”

Her offer was cut short by the rapid slapping of sandals in the hallway outside, shortly followed by the breathless arrival of the woman herself, already part way through an apology. No one besides Phoibe was paying much attention to her words though it had to be said. The three adults were looking at her with various combinations of raised eyebrows and open mouths.

Ordinarily Savina was the very picture of elegant propriety, but today she had clearly been put together in a hurry. The clasps holding the shoulders of her chiton were mismatched and if Kassandra was correct, and she was pretty sure that she was, she was not wearing a breastband beneath it. Her face was flushed and make-up free and her usually neatly arranged hair hung in loose waves about her shoulders. She looked absolutely gorgeous Kassandra decided, fighting down an inappropriate flush of arousal. Though the overall picture was slightly marred by the fact that she was clearly distressed.

“Oh gods, I am so sorry Archon, I don’t know how to begin to apologise.”

“You already have.” Kyra got to her feet and took her hands, they were a little sweaty. “You look flushed?” She pressed the back of a hand to her brow. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“They were worried.” Phoibe was carefully dissecting a pomegranate. “Kassandra was just going to ride over and see if you were all right,” she added helpfully. “Though not till she’d finished her breakfast, so perhaps not _ that _ worried yet.”

“Yes,_ thank you,_ Phoibe,” Kassandra gave her a narrow look. “Come and sit down Savina, catch your breath, take some water.”

“Thank you, but I couldn’t, I’ve already kept you waiting,” she began to fuss with her hair before realizing that she’d brought no pins or cord with her. “Oh! Your laurels,” she suddenly registered Kyra’s bare head. “Forgive me, please. I’ll just go and -”

“No you won’t.” Kyra caught her hand. “Aegeus will be beside himself at the opportunity to gather them. Now stop apologising, there is no need. Do you feel feverish, or sickly?”

“It’s nothing like that, I assure you Archon. Thank you Phoibe." She accepted a cup of water and drank gratefully. “Merely embarrassed at my lateness and a little overheated from running. If I might be permitted to cool off at the pump, then we can be about our errands. I am so sorry to have kept you all waiting.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kassandra shook her head, partly to dispel the image of Savina cooling off at the pump if she was honest.

“No,” Phoibe mumbled around a mouthful of pomegranate seeds, “Kassandra only just got up actually, cos you weren’t here to go wake her, she needs a rooster.”

“Yes, perhaps have a rest from being helpful for a few minutes eh?” Kassandra suggested dryly as Savina rushed out into the yard. “You’ve got juice all down your chin by the way.”

“Well!” Cymone was leaning by the door and watching as Savina splashed her face with a little water before plunging her hands into the bucket and holding them there for a while. “Nothing sinister, but still a mystery no? Savina’s as reliable as sunrise. This is the first time I’ve known her to be late.” 

“Savina?” Kyra caught her gently by the arm as she came back in looking a little cooler. Damp strands of hair clung to her brow and a few drops of water had splashed the front of her chiton. “You really don’t seem yourself, perhaps you’re sickening for something. I think you should go home and rest. Kassandra will accompany you, see you settled and then go and find Kittos at the boatyard. I don’t want you to return until he thinks that you are quite well. You managed without me all that time, we will cope without you for a few days. Aegeus and Praxos can... actually, where _ is _ Praxos?”

“He went out really, really early to get meat for the orphanage, and us.” Phoibe was dribbling a handful of seeds into her mouth. “Boar stew tonight!”

“Nice young shoat he bagged.” Cymone smiled. “Brought us the liver as well. You’ll like a bit of liver eh, Kassandra? Dropped it here, had a bite to eat and then went back to bed for a while.”

“With Orion.” Phoibe wiped her hands on her tunic and received a clip with the towel from Cymone. She tossed the gutted shell of the pomegranate into the scraps bin and turned to Savina. “Kyra is right though Savina. If you aren’t feeling well you should go home and rest. We can go clothes shopping when you’re better. It won’t be any fun if you feel under the weather.”

It had occurred to her as the adults were talking that if Kassandra had earmarked this morning to spend with her, then abandoned clothes shopping could easily be replaced with swimming.

“Mmm,” Kassandra nodded. “You can ride back with me. Let Kittos wait on you hand and foot for a couple of days.”

Cymone gave a delighted snort. “That lad waits on her hand and foot anyway. I knew full well that she’d not eaten tainted fish. He’d never let that happen.” She saw Kassandra’s puzzled expression and clarified. “He does all the cooking. Bakes like a professional. He’d a damn sight better baker than that little weasel in town.”

“Well, he’s quite something by the sound of it.” Kassandra took the information on board.

“He’s_ perfect, _” Savina supplied without thinking. “I mean,” she blushed, realizing she’d spoken out loud. “That won’t be possible. He’s not home.”

“No,” Kassandra grinned, getting to her feet. “But I’ll go and get him for you. Archon’s orders!” she winked.

“I bet they pull that lad’s leg something fierce down the shipyard.” Cymone shook her head, laughing.

“No, I wasn’t clear,” Savina explained. “I mean he’s away from the island. They’re testing some modifications on a new vessel. He’ll be away for two or three days.”

“Oh Savina!” Kyra sighed reproachfully, sitting back down. “Why didn’t you say something? You could have been staying here with us, instead of managing for yourself. Has he taken Spiros too? Right, well you’ll stay here till he gets back. When did he leave?”

Savina was blushing hotly now, pretending close attention to her thumbnail. “Well, he, I mean they, it's not just him of course, but they, well… just this morning,” she finished weakly.

There was a lengthy silence, broken at last by Kassandra’s gleeful exclamation. “Oh ho ho! Savina!” Her delight was palpable as she strode over and wrapped an arm around Savina’s shoulders. “Do you mean to say, that if I had ridden over to your house this morning, that I could have interrupted _ you _ for once?!”

“Kassandra!” Kyra tried to make her warning sound sincere, but both she and Cymone were equally entertained.

“What’s so funny?” Phoibe frowned, reaching for the milk jug, only to find it empty.

“I don’t blame you one bit Savina.” Cymone wiped her eyes on her apron. “If I’d a gorgeous slab of man like that warming my bed, you lot would be sorting out your own breakfast more mornings than not.”

“Perhaps you should get yourself a gorgeous slab of man then?” Phoibe hopped down from the table, picking up the jug. “It might encourage Kassandra to learn how to cook.”

“Maybe I should at that!” Cymone primped her hair a little. “Hang about there, little one, I’ll come with you, we can give the goats the table scraps while they’re giving us milk eh?” She began to clear the table and gather the vegetable peelings.

“I’m sorry to laugh, Savina,” Kyra bit her lip. “But that’s really all it was? Just an intensely affectionate goodbye? Nothing untoward?”

“I am so ashamed Archon, that was absolutely no excuse for being late to my duties.” She was worrying the edge of her belt between her fingers, still blushing fiercely.

“Oh Savina!” Kassandra squeezed her shoulders. “The fact that you are here bright and early every other morning, speaks volumes to Kittos’ remarkable self restraint. Unless you normally just wake up really, really early of course?” she laughed. 

Taking pity on her she stopped teasing and went to examine an intriguing parcel on the table by the door. It had caught her eye while she was eating breakfast.

“Please, Savina, stop apologising.” Kyra was working to contain her smile. “I am genuinely delighted that was the reason, given the grim scenarios I had playing in my mind. And had I known that Kittos was leaving on a trip I would have sent you home early yesterday. But you will stay here until he comes back?”

“Yes, go on!” Phoibe was picking up a few stray pomegranate seeds from the floor and dropping them into the goat bucket. “It’ll be fun.”

“Where did these come from?” Kassandra was rummaging in the bag. She produced an appetising looking pastry, golden brown, glazed with honey and filled with a sticky reddish paste.

“Oh, are they date pastries?” Phoibe exclaimed delightedly. “Those are so good.”

“Doesn’t smell like dates,” she sniffed. “Smells spicy though.”

Cymone looked over and frowned. “Praxos dropped that when he came back from the orphanage this morning, said Melina had sent something as a thank you.” She stalked over and rummaged in the bag.

“Here, have one, Savina,” Kassandra proffered the bag. “You can’t have had much time for breakfast… all things considering." She winked.

Savina blushed anew, but took a bun all the same. She might have been teasing, but Kassandra had hit the nail on the head. Her mouth watered as the spicy scent reached her.

“Just a bloody minute!” Cymone barked suddenly. “Are these from that baker fellow?” She turned and scowled at Kyra.

“Yes, I asked him to make them for the orphanage. We used to make them back with the rebels. These will be much more -”

“The very idea!” Cymone slapped the bun clean out of Kassandra’s hand just as she brought it to her lips. It landed neatly in the goat bucket. “In my very own kitchen! He knows how I feel about that little snake. _ And _ you young lady!” She whipped the bun from Savina’s fingers and tossed it after the other. “The audacity. Wait till Praxos gets out of bed, he’ll be getting the rough edge of my tongue and no mistake. You want some breakfast Savina, I will make you breakfast when we’ve milked these goats. _ And _ those thank you!” She snatched the bag from Kassandra’s hand and dumped a further four or five buns on top of the pile of stale bread and vegetable scraps.

“What the hell was that about?” Kassandra hissed once Cymone and Phoibe were safely out of ear shot.

“She thinks the baker stole the recipe for her almond cake,” Kyra rolled her eyes.

“Did he?” she smirked.

“He could have done. They taste remarkably similar. Though if you value your life you won’t say that in front of Cymone.”

“He’s a fool if he did,” Savina sighed. “She’d have given it to him if he’d asked. Kittos admired it and she wrote it down for him.”

“Well she’s clearly got a soft spot for your husband,” Kassandra shook her head. “He must be some sort of Adonis.”

“He _ is _ extremely handsome,” Kyra laughed. “I’d argue he’s the best looking man on the Islands.”

“Is he now?” Kassandra gave her a narrow look.

“Mmm,” Kyra took a sip of water, to hide her smirk. “He has the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Startling really.”

“Hmm, does he now?” Kassandra chewed her lip thoughtfully.

“Gods yes,” Kyra gave Savina a sly wink. “And the thickest, glossiest black hair. Though not so much as a curl on his chest. Nothing to distract from his tanned skin and… gods, talk about well muscled.”

“You do remember that his wife is standing right there, don’t you?” Kassandra nodded towards Savina. “While you’re waxing poetic, and a little indecently, about her handsome husband,” she sounded rather prim.

Kyra made a point of ignoring her, and assumed a dreamy tone. “Oh he’s not just handsome, Kassandra, he’s the kindest, gentlest man you can imagine.”

“Is that so?” She tried to sound casual. “Well that’s only right, Savina deserves the best of men. He’s a lucky fellow.”

“Oh no, Misthios.” Savina had a wistful, far away look in her eye. “_ I’m _ the lucky one. He is the most wonderful of men.”

“But he’s no Kassandra of Sparta.” Kyra got to her feet, laughing, and slid her arms about Kassandra’s hips. “And he has no single brothers anyway. I checked.”

“Indeed?” she looked down at her, smiling reluctantly.

“Yes,” Kyra looked up, amused to see her wrong footed for once. “I decided that you were a more than acceptable substitute,” she teased, stroking along her jaw. “And I have yet to regret my decision.” She stretched up and kissed her lingeringly.

Kassandra slipped her arms about her and nuzzled lightly into the crook of her neck. “I wasn’t jealous, you know,” she whispered.

“No, of course you weren’t my love,” Kyra smiled. “And just as well. You have no need to be. But we should stop embarrassing Savina now.” She heard her shuffling uncomfortably behind them and eased out of Kassandra’s embrace, resuming her seat at the table.

“I’d like you to notice that your boss started that for once.” Kassandra gave Savina an apologetic smile. “We’ll wait till you’ve had some breakfast, then we’ll leave eh?” She pilfered a few chunks of carrot from the pile on the table.

“No, please. I’m ashamed enough already that I’ve made you wait for me. Please, let’s leave when Phoibe comes back. I will be fine till lunchtime.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Kyra shook her head, hearing Aegeus calling for her. “If you don’t wish to wait and eat here, then Kassandra will get you something to eat in town. I insist.” She cut off Savina’s attempt at protest. “Kassandra?”

“Heard and understood Archon,” she smirked. “I’m not likely to get Phoibe through town without buying her something to eat anyway.”

“What’s that?” Phoibe skipped in, Cymone following close behind with the full jug.

“I was saying you have hollow legs,” Kassandra ruffled her hair. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Once they’d left the grounds, Phoibe skipping along backwards chattering happily, Kassandra rummaged in the back of her belt and produced a small package wrapped in a clean handkerchief. She held it out to Savina with a hopeful smile.

“Here you go, you shouldn’t wait till we get into town to eat, you’ve raced around on an empty stomach this morning. Teasing aside. Eat please?”

She seemed completely sincere and opening the cloth Savina found one of the rolls inside. “But how did you?” she glanced up, smiling quizzically. 

She really was awfully pretty Kassandra thought. And bare faced, with her hair loose, shifting as it caught the soft breeze, she looked much younger than she normally did.

“I pocketed one while Cymone was ranting,” she winked. “I learned a few things as a mercenary you know.”

“I notice you didn’t pilfer enough for everyone.” Phoibe rolled her eyes.

“There were only about a half dozen, she’d have noticed,” Kassandra defended. “And if you think she wouldn’t have searched me for them, then you don’t know her very well.”

“I’d have thought that would have added to the thrill for you?” She replied saucily.

“I’m sorry. Would you ?” Savina held out the handkerchief wrapped pastry.

“No! Gods, sorry,” Phoibe shook her head quickly. “I was just teasing. You have to try and keep Kassandra in her place now and again.”

“Well, that would not be appropriate,” Savina blushed and took a bite of the bun.

“Don’t worry, she enjoys it.” Phoibe scuffed her feet in the gravel, hands clasped behind her back.

“That will do.” Kassandra patted her head, a trifle firmly. “How is it?” she watched Savina chewing thoughtfully. 

“Rather nice,” she said, once her mouth was empty. “Though there’s a curious, sort of… aftertaste. Not unpleasant. Would you like to taste?” She held out the bun for Kassandra to tear off a bit. 

Without giving it much thought Kassandra caught her hand gently and bent to take a bite, inadvertently brushing her fingers with her lips. “Thank you,” she missed Savina’s flustered expression and sudden blush as she chewed carefully. “Hmm… perhaps you had to grow up eating them. I mean it's not unpleasant, but I wouldn’t choose one. Perhaps they have pleasant associations for Kyra.”

“Possibly, yes.” Savina avoided her eyes as she finished the bun and wiped her lips with the handkerchief. “Would you like me to wash this before returning it?” 

“What? Oh no, that’s fine,” Kassandra smiled, accepting it back. “Few crumbs won’t hurt,” she tucked it back into her pocket.

“Hmm, her hankies see some stuff,” Phoibe nodded. “You know, we should get you a nice chiton or something, Kassandra.”

“Me? Why?” She frowned, puzzled.

“Well, just because,” she stooped and picked up three egg sized stones. “So you could look nice for Kyra. She wears pretty clothes all the time, and you’re just in your armour. I mean you look good in your armour. Don’t get me wrong. You look incredible in that red and bronze, but it's not very romantic is it? What do you think, Savina?”

“I… well, in fairness the Archon did select Misthios Kassandra’s armour, so I’m sure she must find her… well, I’m sure she finds… I mean whatever the Misthios is -”

“What Savina is too sensitive to say, is that Kyra finds me positively edible regardless of what I’m wearing… or not wearing,” Kassandra grinned, provoking an eye-roll of epic proportions from Phoibe.

“You definitely owe us both a second breakfast for making us hear that with our very own ears.” She began to juggle the stones she’d gathered, stutteringly at first but gaining fluidity as she got her eye in. “Or a first breakfast for Savina actually. That weird bun doesn’t count.” She glanced up, grinning encouragingly and dropped one of the stones.

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary, I assure you.” Savina dipped and retrieved it for her. “I feel bad enough you had to wait till I came.”

“My dear Savina,” Kassandra tucked her thumbs into her belt and smirked foxily. “It’s a point of honour with me, never to leave until the lady has come.”

“I swear Kassandra, I am going to tell Kyra when we get back if you don’t behave.” Phoibe shook her head, struggling to regain her rhythm. “Actually,” she cocked her head. “Can I smell chicken?”

“Very probably. There’s a stall we’ll pass that sells these skewers of grilled meat, with herbs and pepper. Don’t tell on me to Kyra and you can have a couple. Same goes for you Savina,” she winked playfully.

It could be such a very pleasant morning, she reflected as they ambled along, Phoibe and Savina chatting quietly. A soft breeze was blowing in from the sea, taking the edge off the heat of the sun. She was free of duties for the day, running an innocent, stress-free errand in charming company. Even the worst of the tainted fish crisis seemed to be passing. Everything could be perfect. Kyra and Phoibe seemed to be warming to each other at last. Phoibe no longer seemed intimidated by her new surroundings, was settling in well, making friends with the other members of the household. If it wasn’t for the looming cloud of those bloody pictures.

She’d managed to push them to the back of her mind so far. But as the streets became busier she’d noticed a few smirks and nudges from passers by. They were heavily outnumbered by the usual polite greetings, but when it happened it was obvious enough that she knew Savina was aware of it. She could sense the increasing tension in her gait. Thankfully Phoibe was preoccupied with honing her juggling skills, or she would be sure to raise awkward questions.

The problems with the tainted fish had occupied everyone’s full attention for the past few days. That was understandable enough. But that seemed under control now and Kassandra was determined that she needed to lance the boil of those ridiculous pictures before the infection spread. 

She’d assumed that laughing off the whole thing would be easy enough. Had it just involved Kassandra and nameless, faceless participants she would have barely considered it an issue. But hearing the vulgar taunting that day at the dock, she’d realised it was an entirely different matter when it was directed at the woman she loved. It was unacceptable that Kyra should be subjected to that. Unacceptable that Nike should be dragged into it. Unacceptable that Savina should have to experience the vulgar snickering of passers by.

If Kassandra was totally honest, the effect it was having in the bedroom was also unacceptable. Last night Kyra had seemed in much better humour when they’d gone to their room. She’d eaten well, and despite the delivery of three more pictures via Praxos she seemed relaxed, chatting with Kassandra as she got ready for bed, reminding her to get new underwear and nightshirts for Phoibe, suggesting a light himation for visits to temple, wondering if she would like boots for less clement weather.

Kassandra had sat in bed, leaning against the pillows, hands behind her head, watching fondly as Kyra removed her make-up and brushed out her hair. For a moment it had felt just like normal. And then Kyra had pulled on a nightshirt, something she only ever did on the very coldest of nights, preferring to avail herself of Kassandra’s warmth. Perhaps she was bashfully concerned about Phoibe making another unannounced appearance in their room, Kassandra had thought, drawing back the covers for her and taking her in her arms as they lay down. 

Her upbringing hadn’t encouraged the same sort of casual attitude to nakedness that Kassandra had grown up with. Once out of Markos’ and into Selene’s it had become a day to day fact of life for her. The difference between them had been clear during their stay on Kephallonia. Kyra would start to relax though, Kassandra was sure of it. Once she’d got used to the new family set up, to Phoibe’s constant chirpy presence.

It was more than that though she realised later as she kissed and nipped at the back of Kyra’s neck and slid her hands slowly down her flanks, across the ridges of her ribs, the taut muscles of her hips, easing round to caress the curve of her ass. Kyra stiffened in her arms and Kassandra instantly sensed the change of mood.

No, Kyra insisted, it wasn’t that she was too tired or that Kassandra had somehow offended her. No, she wasn’t concerned that Phoibe was going to come barreling in and catch them in the act. Though now she came to mention that.

“Those fucking pictures?!”

“I’m sorry Kassandra,” she sounded a little tearful, “I know it’s ridiculous. I want to, I really do. I want _ you _, but,” she turned in her arms and hugged her about the waist, resting her head against her chest.

“There’s nothing to apologise for, love. None of this is your fault. You know that, right?”

“I can’t explain it.” Kassandra felt a couple of hot tears against her breast. “It’s as though they’ve taken what we do out of love, out of desire for each other and made it shameful and dirty. And I know it's ridiculous to feel like that.”

Kassandra has held her close, stroking her hair, murmuring soothingly till she’d fallen asleep. Then she’d lain awake for a while, scowling at the moon silvered ceiling as she pictured the many and varied ways she could kill the person or persons responsible for this.

She was re-running a couple of her favourites now as she sat beside Savina and Phoibe on a low wall looking out to sea, chewing on grilled chicken. They were chatting happily, about clothes it sounded like, but she wasn’t really listening. She needed to get to the bottom of who was behind this and quickly. The poison had already spread from the streets to her home, she needed to find the source.

“Misthios Kassandra?” A nervous call from behind her drew her attention back to the present. Turning, she saw a city guard, one of the younger recruits, standing a few yards off, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, a blush warming his thinly bearded cheeks. “I wonder if… oh! Mistress Savina!” His blush deepened as she turned to look at him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you with your… from the back I mean… with your hair… ah… Mistress Phoibe.” Kassandra could almost hear his frantic gulping from where she sat.

“Hello! Just Phoibe though.” She gave him a little wave, watching with interest as he tucked something behind his breast plate and licked his lips.

“I wonder if I might impose for a moment?” He looked pleadingly at Kassandra who was already getting to her feet. “A word please, Misthios. In private?”

Phoibe watched as Kassandra stalked over to him. She kept one ear on Savina’s chatter about the latest colours and styles, what shades she and Kyra thought might suit her, but her attention was locked on what was going on a few yards away.

Muffled words were exchanged and the young guard reached up to his chest piece only to have Kassandra catch his hand and dart a look back at Phoibe. She made a show of giving her a casual wave and smile before pretending intense concentration on Savina. She was expounding upon the virtues of earthy colours brightened by a splash of something vibrant.

“That sounds lovely.” Phoibe nipped a piece of chicken from the skewer and nodded. “We didn’t have half so many colours back on Kephallonia,” she covered her mouth politely as she spoke, glancing over Savina’s shoulder all the while.

The paper, a little crumpled now, had changed hands. Kassandra examined it for a few seconds. Even from the back her body language radiated tightly suppressed anger. She folded the sheet with such venom that an onlooker might have thought it owed her money, before cramming it into her pocket.

Had it disappeared into the depths of any other pocket, Phoibe would have fancied her chances of lifting it. But not Kassandra’s. You didn't try and trick a trickster after all. She had been almost certain that it was one of those mysterious pictures that Cymone had let slip about. Phoibe was desperately keen to see what it contained. It and the other sheets that Nike had given to Praxos the previous day.

Biting off another chunk of chicken she turned an ear back to Savina. She was talking about himations now, something Phoibe had never given much consideration. It sounded as though Kyra was hoping that Phoibe might show an interest in visiting the temple with her at some point. She cast an eye off into the distance, to the colossal statue of the virgin huntress shining in the sun atop her vantage point, legs striding purposefully, bow drawn. She seemed like the kind of goddess it might be good to have keeping an eye on you.

“I’d like to see the temple very much,” she nodded. “My family back in Sami prayed to Aphrodite of course. For obvious reasons.”

Savina blushed prettily and conceded that it was not only understandable but entirely appropriate, all things considered.

“But this is Artemis’ island,” Phoibe continued, “it would be good to get to know her.” 

Kassandra had patted the red faced guard on the arm and sent him on his way now, but she didn’t immediately turn and come back. Instead she rummaged in her pocket and fished out the now dogeared papyrus, uncrumpling it and reexamining the contents. Her shoulders slumped as she did so.

From what she’d pieced together so far Phoibe had assumed that the mysterious pictures depicted people having sex, that Kyra disapproved because she seemed a little prim about the subject, and that Cymone hadn’t wanted to go into details on account of Phoibe’s youth. After all, she wasn’t to know about Clio’s extensive collection, or Phoibe’s passing familiarity with it. Kassandra’s reaction though had changed her mind. Whilst she might be awkward about discussing the details of sex with Phoibe, she certainly wasn’t likely to be wrong footed in the least by a few dirty pictures. There was something more serious going on here, she was sure of it.

A light tap on her arm made her realise that she’d allowed her attention to wander too obviously. Savina was following her gaze now and her expression fell as she saw Kassandra standing with her back to them, her posture despondent.

“Would you excuse me, just for a moment please Phoibe?” She got to her feet, smoothing out her chiton and walked over to Kassandra.

“Misthios?” She said carefully, placing the lightest of touches on her elbow. “Are you all… oh!” She saw the picture in her hands. “Oh gods.” She brought a hand to her mouth as Kassandra carelessly crumpled the sheet and shoved it back in her pocket. “I’d half hoped that they’d stopped. That the whole mess with the fish might have distracted whoever is doing this.”

“I’m afraid not. There were more yesterday. Nike passed them to Praxos.”

“I don’t understand Misthios.” She looked up with tears in her eyes. “Why would anyone want to do this?”

“Well it's not for monetary gain. Not directly anyway. Someone is spending an awful lot of time producing pictures of Kyra and me fu… of Kyra and me. Though he is starting to repeat himself.” She gave her a humourless smile. “But then he’s not selling them. He’s just leaving them around the place, giving them away.”

“Selling them?” Savina sounded puzzled. “Do people?” She caught Kassandra’s expression. “Oh. I suppose they must.”

“Until I saw the ones with… our mutual friend, I assumed that it was just someone weirdly obsessed with Kyra’s sex life and with too much time and money on their hands. But Praxos is right. The addition of _ you know who _ is more sinister. That’s not just someone’s sexual kink. That’s someone trying to undermine Kyra’s position.”

“But why, Misthios?” A couple of tears were rolling down Savina’s cheeks now. “Why would anyone want to do such a thing? Kyra has been nothing but good for the Silver Islands. Even before she became Archon she worked solely for the good of the people. But I don’t need to tell you that Misthios, you were by her side. Why would anyone be so foolish as to try and depose a woman who has the good of everyone at heart?” 

She was rummaging in the folds of her chiton and realizing that she’d rushed out of the house without a handkerchief as well as everything else.

“For the basest reasons, I assume.” Kassandra shook the crumbs out of her own. “So they can take over themselves, or position their puppet in the leader’s villa, and then redirect all that coin from those who need it into their own pockets. But we are not going to let that happen. Are we?” She handed her the handkerchief, watching as she wiped her eyes, lips trembling.

“Don’t cry now Savina.” She impulsively drew her into a comforting hug and was flattered when she didn’t instantly pull back, but rested her brow against her shoulder. “I am going to put a stop to this. I promise. Other matters seem to be calming down. The patients are improving, the food deliveries are running smoothly. But we are going to forget about this for the rest of the day. We’re going to have a pleasant morning buying Phoibe a whole new wardrobe. Then later we’re going to have supper together, and you’re going to regale us with tales of your youthful adventures with Kyra. Then tomorrow I am going to begin my search for this mysterious pornographer. And when I get my hands on him, he’s going to wish he’d never picked up a pen. Let’s thank the gods that at least you weren’t dragged into any of that filth eh?”

Savina had been uncomfortably aware of the inappropriateness of standing here in the street, wrapped in Kassandra’s arms and had been about to withdraw until her final words. She wasn’t to know of the three pictures that Nike had discreetly slipped to Savina, the ones including a blonde woman with a distinctive hair style, the ones Savina had taken home and burnt. Swallowing hard she rested her head back against Kassandra’s shoulder to hide her fierce blush.

From her position on the wall Phoibe watched with interest. Whatever was going on was clearly upsetting Savina too. That was unfortunate, she was genuinely lovely and didn’t deserve to be standing here flustered and crying. Seeing Kassandra dry her eyes and then wrap her in a hug, she sighed. Kassandra did have a tendency to follow her impulses, often at precisely the worst moment. 

Phoibe had seen enough of her interactions with other women to recognise an innocent hug when she saw one. Kassandra’s hands were definitely in the neutral zone for one thing, and she was patting Savina’s back. That was a dead give away. A few passers by didn’t seem to be making that distinction she noticed. 

What would make an innocent, comforting hug even more innocent she decided, was the addition of a winsome child. She sucked the last of the meat scraps from the skewers, tossed them over the wall for the crabs, then hopped down and skipped over to Kassandra and Savina.

“I don’t know why you’re upset Savina.” She wrapped one arm around each woman’s hips. “But there’s no need to cry now. Whatever it is, Kassandra will sort it out for you. She’s really good at sorting out problems, usually.”


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you might be forgiven for thinking that Artemis *is* ticked off ... and there's a death in the family.

As they strolled along to the dressmaker’s Phoibe insinuated herself between them, taking their hands and playing up the role of endearing child for the passers-by. It was largely successful, coaxing smiles from the majority they encountered.

It was just as well they reached the shop when they did, she decided. Savina’s hand was becoming clammy and when she glanced up at her before entering she looked strangely pale. Perhaps they’d been too long in the sun? She stood back to let her go in first and watched her brighten at the sight of Pero the proprietress gliding towards them, hands outstretched to greet her.

“Savina, my dear, what an unexpected delight! And looking so charming. Aren’t I always saying that you should wear your hair down more often? It softens your whole look. Which I suppose means that you have a day away from the onerous duties of governance? Tell me, how may we help you today?”

“It’s actually the newest member of the Archon’s household who requires your services.” Savina looked around for Phoibe. She was a pace or two behind, leaning on the door frame and peering across the street. 

As they’d entered, a rough looking fellow with a straggly beard had muttered something under his breath in passing. He’d chosen the wrong person to whisper behind of course. Kassandra had dropped Phoibe’s hand like a hot rock and strode after him. Now she was dragging him across the road by his family jewels unless Phoibe was very much mistaken, and judging by his distraught squeaks, she wasn’t.

Once hidden in a narrow alleyway between two buildings she released her grip and he fell to his knees at her feet, clutching himself. Phoibe had once seen Markos receive a full bloodied butt to the crotch from an affronted goat and he’d been tear streaked and speechless for a good few minutes afterwards.  She imagined this unfortunate individual was feeling more or less the same. His silence was immaterial, because Kassandra seemed to be doing all the talking. They were too far away to make out what was being said, but it was nothing complimentary, that was for sure.

A tap on her shoulder made her jump and she turned to see Savina and a pleasant looking older woman smiling expectantly at her. She was rather overwhelmed by the warmth of the greeting that followed. Back in Sami, trips to the dressmaker had generally involved rummaging through a selection of simple tunics whilst Clio or Europa explained their requirements to the proprietress. Here, she was unexpectedly the centre of attention.  Clothing the Archon and her immediate household was something of an honour, it seemed. She was seated comfortably and Pero called an assistant to bring water and towels so they could wash their hands.

While waiting, Phoibe took the chance to look around. The room was low ceilinged but very large, with huge windows along the back wall, overlooking the sea. The street side wall was solid and lined with shelves. Designed to minimize dust from the road, she supposed, whilst still providing good light.  At the far end, she could see an elderly woman, sitting by a window, bent over needlework, chatting to a much younger woman who was folding cloth. The place smelt delicious, she thought as she washed and dried her hands. Beeswax was used to smooth thread and ease its passage through fine cloth, Phoibe knew. But the whole room was filled with its warm honey scent. Presumably from the clusters of candles burning in the corners. Gods only knew how much the clothes must cost if they could afford to burn beeswax candles like that during the day. 

She watched Savina hold a damp cloth to the pulse points of her throat. She looked an odd colour and sweat beaded her brow. “Do you feel all right?” She leaned over and touched her arm. 

“Thank you Phoibe, just a trifle light headed.” Savina closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “It’s coming in out of the light and heat I suppose.”

“Indeed!” Pero tutted sympathetically. “Such a warm day. You should invest in a hat Savina, you really should. Permit me to get you a little wine, and some grape juice for Mistress Phoibe, perhaps?”

“Thank you, and just Phoibe is all right, honestly.”

“Such charming informality.” Pero patted her cheek. “I’m sure that will be permissible, here amongst friends - good gods!”

A clatter from the doorway signaled Kassandra’s unnecessarily dramatic entrance. Done with giving a generous piece of her mind to a townsman rash enough to observe that she seemed to have acquired a blonde for her collection, she’d sent him on his way with more than his ego bruised. Looking over her shoulder to follow his departure she’d walked headfirst into the door lintel.  Cursing and rubbing her forehead she’d stood up once inside and caught her shoulder under one end of a low shelf, jerking the whole thing up a good few inches, sending flying a tray full of balls of fine yarn. She watched despondently as they bounced across the floor, under tables and chairs.

“I am so sorry.” She carefully replaced the shelf. “Let me just sort this and I’ll get those for you.”

“Misthios Kassandra!” Pero seemed delighted, regardless. “Do not worry about that, my girls will be only too happy to pick them up. What a great honour to welcome you to our premises at last. I don’t mind telling you that I’ve very much looked forward to clothing you!”

There was some whispering and giggling at this from the back of the room. Pero frowned and clapped her hands sharply.  “That will do! Some refreshments for our guests, and grape juice for Mistress Phoibe. Just one of you, the other come over here and help gather up this yarn.”

Despite Pero’s protests, Kassandra was already crouched with a dozen or so balls in the crook of one arm as she fished under Savina’s chair for a straggler. For her part Savina was barely aware of the chaos. There was a strange, metallic taste at the back of her mouth and the edges of her tongue had become oddly numb. It felt as though the next room was filled with bees, so overwhelming was the low buzz pulsing in her head, muffling her hearing.

Something brushed against her leg and she glanced down to see Kassandra’s head nudging against her thigh. Abrupt and unbidden, a luridly coloured image burst into her mind. The muscles of Kassandra’s back lovingly rendered with fluid pen strokes as she braced Savina’s legs over her shoulders and lowered her head to -. She gave an involuntary exclamation of shock and reared away.

“Sorry Savina, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Kassandra looked up, giving her a charming little grin, revealing a sharp, white canine. Savina’s head swam, she raised her hand to her brow and felt cold sweat. “I was just getting this.” She held in her hand, something glowing and orb shaped, so green it made Savina’s head ache. 

“There’s a blue one under your chair Phoibe.” As she spoke, Kassandra got to her feet and cracked her head on the underside of the shelf above them.

Everyone heard her “fuck” this time, though they pretended temporary deafness. The awkward quiet was broken by a soft whisper as a roll of fine linen made its way to the edge, teetered for a moment and then fell, unwinding as it went. Savina suddenly found herself curtained in warm yellow, as something drifted down, obscuring her vision.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry.” Kassandra looked from her armful of yarn to the swath of golden fabric sheeted over Phoibe and Savina, carpeting the floor. “Just let me put these away and then I’ll -”

“NO!” Pero turned quickly with a basket in her arms. “I mean, no, please, don’t trouble yourself Misthios. Just drop those in here, thank you so much.”

“I’ll roll this up for you.” Kassandra made to reach for the cloth as Pero stowed the basket safely under the table.

“No! _Please_, no. I mean there is no need, no need at all.” Her smile was somewhat strained. “We are evidently not designed for someone of such imposing physique, the apologies are all mine, I assure you.”

“I should go and wait outside.”

“No, no!” Pero caught her arm. Her protest was genuine enough. On the one hand she had three, count them  _ three _ , members of the Archon’s immediate household in her shop. And on the other, who knew what havoc Kassandra could wreak on her way back to the door. 

“Please, Misthios.” She was relieved when Kassandra allowed herself to be led out of harm’s way and settled in a chair. “Relax here, in the shade.” Pero waved to the woman who had arrived with refreshments, who was now standing looking bemused as her colleagues cleared away the fabric.  “Take some wine and give us the benefit of your experience as we outfit your young friend. You are so very widely traveled that it will be fascinating to hear your opinions.”

Truth be told, Kassandra’s opinions on women’s clothing had generally surrounded their ease of removal, but once she was settled with some rather good wine and a plate of very moreish biscuits, she was happy enough to nod with varying degrees of enthusiasm as each new garment was displayed. 

After her initial reluctance Phoibe seemed quite enthusiastic about the whole thing now. Comparing and contrasting colours and weights, chatting happily about necklines and sleeves. Kassandra had never done this with her before, she thought regretfully. A trip to the dressmaker’s in Sami had only ever involved her holding a tunic up against Phoibe’s back and announcing that there was room for her to grow.  It had never occurred to her that she might actually enjoy shopping for some pretty clothes. Kyra should really be here with her. It had been her idea, and she could imagine the fun that she and Savina would be having dressing Phoibe. She popped another biscuit in her mouth and leaned forward in her chair, determined to at least pretend some interest in what was going on.

There was clearly something preying at Phoibe though she noticed, as the pile of clothes grew and Savina reminded Pero that underwear and night clothes were needed also. She was glancing over at Kassandra, gnawing on her lip as the women went over to a table to examine linen.

“What is it, little one?” Kassandra asked, keeping her voice low. “You look worried suddenly.”

Phoibe shuffled closer, her brows knitted.  “These feel like really expensive clothes, Kassandra,” she sounded concerned. “I thought I was just coming for a new tunic. I like that red one.” She pointed. “But…”

“Hey,” Kassandra stroked her arm slowly. “Don’t worry about that. If you’re concerned that Kyra is buying them, don’t be. I’m paying. And I don’t want you to think about how much they cost. That doesn’t matter anymore.”

Phoibe gave her a dubious look.

“Little one.” Kassandra eased her close and lowered her head to hers. “I’ve spent a long time doing dirty jobs all over the Aegean, and getting well paid for it. What have I had to spend it on till now? Most of the time I’ve been on board ship, or sleeping rough, eating in cheap taverns. I have money Phoibe, and I want to spend some of it on you. It's time you had some nice clothes.” She could see she still felt awkward about it. “After all, what will people say if they see Kassandra of Sparta’s little sister wandering around with her tunic barely covering her ass,” she teased.

“Like big sister, like little sister?” Phoibe mustered a smile.

Kassandra laughed and gave her a quick hug. “Likely as not. By the way, that green shawl that Savina was eyeing?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “When we’re leaving, you nip back and ask Pero to add that as well all right? It will make a nice present from you to say thank you for her help.”

“That’s a good idea.” Phoibe nodded, darting a glance over to the table. The two women were still deciding on the softest fabric for Phoibe’s new underwear. “It will cheer her up. I know she says she’s all right, but… she looks a bit peaky don’t you think? Perhaps she’s missing her husband already.”

“Perhaps,” Kassandra nodded. “Or her dog,” she winked, watching Phoibe’s face light up.

“ _ She _ has a dog too?!” she hissed.

“Mmm, big shaggy black and white thing. And yes, I’m sure she’ll bring him to work one day if you ask.”

“Oh she definitely gets the shawl now,” Phoibe grinned. “But I can pay. Markos can buy it.”

Kassandra breathed deep and took her hands.  “I know you like to be self reliant, little one. And I’m proud of you for that. But I’ve missed you so much, for so long. Let me do a few things for you? Please? To make _me_ feel better?” She looked down at their joined hands. “I know it doesn’t make up for all the time I was away, but, it will help me think that some of those nasty jobs were worth it.”

“Oh isn’t that just adorable?” Pero’s voice interrupted them and Kassandra found they were the subject of her simpering admiration. Blushing hard, she dropped Phoibe’s hands and shuffled back in her chair. “The softer side of the impregnable misthios.” Pero clasped her hands to her breast. “Phoibe, would you like to come and select your night shirts?”

“Choose ones Orion will like,” Kassandra drew her guard back up and refilled her cup. This wine was really quite excellent, no wonder the clothes were expensive. She popped another biscuit in her mouth and crunched appreciatively. They were delicious too. She wished Savina were eating more of them. She looked at the plate beside her chair, it was barely touched. And Phoibe was right, she looked pale and clammy and seemed to be absently rubbing below her ribs now and again.

By the time they were ready to leave, Pero explaining to Phoibe that she would parcel up the clothes and have them delivered to the villa later in the day, Savina’s face was ashen and her brow beaded with sweat. She didn’t even have the spirit to deny it when Kassandra pointed out how ill she looked, as they waited for Phoibe to join them outside.

“Perhaps I  _ should _ go home, Misthios, as I’m already halfway there. I do feel a little unwell.”

“And you think I’m going to let you go home, to an empty house?” Kassandra snorted. “Kyra would kill me, even if it  _ was _ something I was inclined to do myself. Which I’m not. Besides, it's already decided, you’re staying at the villa till your dream boat of a husband returns.” She attempted to rouse a smile.  Her instinct was to sweep Savina up in her arms and carry her back to the villa, but recalling her earlier encounter with the insolent lout she realised that was out of the question. “Here, take my arm,” she instructed, as Phoibe came skipping out, looking smug after her secret errand.

“I don’t think that’s quite appropriate given the circumstances, Misthios, thank you though.”

“What? Leaning on Kassandra?” Phoibe eyed her with concern. “Of course you can. She could carry you without breaking a sweat.”

“Oh gods no! That would never do, the scandal would -”

“Savina, calm yourself.” Kassandra touched her elbow gently. “I could, but I won’t. Unless you pass out, and to be honest, you look on the verge of it. Now take my arm please?” She held it out.

“But people will talk.” Her protest was sounding more feeble now.

“They’re talking already, Savina,” Kassandra sighed, taking her hand and looping it under her arm. “No one who matters will care. Though Kyra and Kittos would  _ both _ care if I let you struggle back unaided, that’s for sure.”

“Hold my hand as well,” Phoibe offered, reaching out. “Then they’ll have to talk about me too, and I don’t care.”

For the first hundred yards or so Savina made a valiant attempt to stride out, putting the least possible pressure on Kassandra’s arm, but by the time they came to the walls of the villa she was leaning heavily on her and breathing rapidly.

“Let’s go to the living room and you can lie down on one of the couches,” Kassandra suggested, as they entered. She made a gentle attempt to lead her towards the stairs but Savina pulled towards the hallway, evidently wanting to head to the kitchen.

“Perhaps something to eat would help?” Phoibe ventured, looking worried. “I’ll go and tell Cymone you’re coming shall I?” She set off at a run.

By the time Kassandra had helped Savina to the kitchen, a supportive arm around her waist, Cymone was chopping mint and crushing fennel seeds as water warmed on the stove.

“Good gods girl, you look rung out.” She pulled out a chair for Savina and placed a motherly hand on her brow. “You’re definitely coming down with something. I’m going to make you a nice infusion, then Kassandra will take you upstairs.”

“Gods no, we can’t possibly do that.” She seemed to be speaking to herself and her eyes were focused beyond the walls of the kitchen. They looked incredibly green, Kassandra thought, bending down and examining them. Savina seemed scarcely aware of her presence. Her pupils were constricted to tiny pinpoints and her stare distant.

“I should go and get a healer.” Kassandra stood up. 

Savina focused on her suddenly, grabbing her hand hard.  “No Misthios, the healers are needed.”

“Aye,_ here_. They’re bloody well needed here.” Cymone stroked Savina’s hair back from her brow. “You aren’t well sweetheart. Let Kassandra go and get the Archon eh?” She looked over Savina’s head and nudged her eyes towards the door. “Go get the Archon eh? If  _ she _ says we need a healer she won’t argue.”

Phoibe was leaning on the door frame, watching anxiously. As Kassandra joined her, they both heard a door open and Kyra emerged from her office. She was accompanied by an elderly man, a merchant Kassandra recognised from town. Bidding him farewell Kyra turned and spotted them peering around the corner at her. 

“I thought I heard you,” she smiled, walking down the hallway towards them. As she approached she removed the laurels from her head. They were less elegant than the simple band Savina usually prepared and as she took them off she shook her head prettily, as if ridding herself of their symbolic weight.  “I wish I could have come with you this morning,” she sighed, massaging the back of her neck, eyes closed for a moment or two. “Did you get lots of pretty clothes Phoibe? I’m excited to… what is it?” She noticed their downcast expressions. “Gods, what’s happened _now_?” She rolled her eyes.

“Savina’s not well and she’s being weird and won’t let Kassandra go and get the healer, and Cymone said that we should get you because if  _ you _ tell Savina she has to do something she won’t argue -”

Phoibe's ramble was interrupted by the sharp sound of breaking pottery and a loud exclamation from Cymone. The laurels fell forgotten from Kyra’s hand as she rushed into the kitchen after the others.

Savina was lying face down by the door to the yard, in a puddle of water, surrounded by pottery shards.

Kyra shouldered past Kassandra and Phoibe, rushing over and dropping to her knees beside her.  “Savina, sweetheart.” She brushed her hair back from her face, and stroked her cheek. “Can you hear me? What happened, Cymone?” She looked up.

“I’m not sure Archon,” she shook her head. Phoibe, clearly rattled, had made her way over and was hugging her about the hips, watching proceedings anxiously. “I had my back turned, making this infusion for her, I heard her say something, very quietly, the chair scraped and then there was this almighty crash.” 

“Kassandra!” Kyra got to her feet, waving her over. “Take her upstairs please? Put her in our room for now. I didn’t get round to asking anyone to ready a guest room. I’m going to go and tell one of the guards to fetch Rhea, or Theis, whichever is available.” She raced out leaving Kassandra crouching beside the unconscious Savina.

She eyed her appraisingly, as far as she could make out there was no blood. Had she fallen badly on any of the shards she’d have expected at least a little blood to be colouring the spilt water.

“Savina?” She crouched low and stroked her cheek. “Can you hear me, lovely?” The faintest of murmurs reached her and she saw Savina's lips part, just barely. “That’s it, good girl,” she patted her cheek. “Can you open those pretty eyes for me, let me see you?” 

Her lashes fluttered a little and slowly her eyes opened. It seemed to take her a few moments to focus on Kassandra and her brows creased in confusion.

“Hello sweetheart.” Kassandra smiled hopefully. “That’s better. Do you know me?”

Savina swallowed hard, evidently searching her brain for the name she required. “Kassandra?” she breathed at last, voice husky.

“It’s Kassandra now is it? It's been Misthios all day.” She gave Cymone and Phoibe a reassuring smile as Kyra came rushing back in to resume her position by her shoulder.

“Oh, gods, Savina, love, you scared us!” She saw that her eyes were open. “I’ve sent for a healer. Let’s get you up off the floor shall we?” She nodded at Kassandra.

“All right, lovely.” Kassandra reached for Savina’s hands. “I’d like to make sure you haven’t hurt yourself anywhere. There’s a lot of broken pottery here. Let me have your hands?”

“Kassandra?” Savina whispered darting a puzzled, out of focus look up over her shoulder. “No, we mustn’t.”

“Mustn’t we?” She was turning Savina's hands over, checking for cuts, running her fingers quickly up her arms and down her sides, withdrawing them every few inches to check for blood. “What mustn’t we?” She smiled kindly, trying to get her to focus on her.

“No, no, we mustn’t.” She was clearly trying to shake her head. “Your wife is right there!” She hissed dramatically.

“My who is what now?” Taken aback, Kassandra looked up at Kyra. She returned an awkward smile and shrugged. “Right well, I’m sure it must be all right, if she’s here, no? Kyra? Could you kick those bits of broken pot away, love? I don’t want to roll her onto them.”

Savina made a feeble protest as Kassandra lifted her effortlessly into her arms and made for the door.  “Don’t worry now Savina,” she softened her voice comfortingly. “I’m going to take you to bed.”

“I really don’t think Kyra will approve.” She shook her head slowly.

“Oh you’d be surprised,” Kassandra laughed, settling her more comfortably in her arms. “Phoibe, would you like to help?” She could see how worried she was, clinging to Cymone, clutching a fistful of her chiton. She nodded eagerly. “Help Cymone clear up all that broken pottery please? Be careful, we don’t want anyone hurting themselves, and then get fresh water for the kitchen would you? Cheer up, little one, either Rhea or Theis will be here soon, they’ll sort things out,” she gave her a reassuring wink.

Drifting on the edge of consciousness Savina raised her hand, it seemed an impossible distance away and yet Kassandra’s face seemed so very close, she could feel her warm breath against her cheek. Gods she was handsome. And so strong. She’d lifted her with no effort at all. It would be useless to protest really. She reached out towards her, her hand seeming to float weightlessly over to Kassandra’s face, to the smooth planes of her cheek, the sharp angle of her jaw.

“Yes?” The touch drew Kassandra's attention back from Phoibe and she looked down to see Savina frowning at her, intensely thoughtful. “Savina? You wanted me?”

“I never thought so before, but… Are you sure this is all right with Kyra?” Her brows were tightly knitted.

“Kyra’s right here,” she nodded her over. “Everything is going to be all right.”

“Gods, you’re so handsome.” Savina breathed wonderingly.

Kassandra shot Kyra a look. “I think we had better get you to bed, before you say something you’ll never live down,” she laughed, making for the stairs. 

As she carried her up, Savina continued to examine her face with fascinated, misfocused eyes and inquisitive fingers, tracing each scar, settling at last on the faint line bisecting her lips. Inappropriate as the situation was, Kassandra felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to raise.

“Your lips?” Savina frowned thoughtfully.

“They are indeed.” Kassandra forced a laugh, glancing sidelong at Kyra who had caught up as they reached the head of the stairs.

“What in the name of the gods is wrong with her?” Kyra opened the door to their room and stood back to allow Kassandra to enter.

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, “but I hope she can’t remember any of this tomorrow.”

“They’re so soft." Savina was still rambling as Kyra folded back the covers and Kassandra lowered her to the bed. “So pretty, so very pretty. And your eyes,” she breathed. “They’re almost orange in this light, I -”

“Whoa!” Kassandra flinched back reflexively. “Let’s not be touching those eh?” She caught her curious hands. “I’m as vulnerable to a poke in the eye as anyone else. Let’s get these dusty sandals off and then you can lie down.”

“Oh… Kyra is here too,” she whispered, as Kassandra knelt at her feet, removing her sandals. “She’s… oh… gods...”

Kassandra followed her astonished gaze and saw Kyra in her underwear, dropping her chiton into the laundry.

“Zeus’ sake love, don’t encourage her!” 

“I can’t look after her in that damn thing.” Kyra was pulling on the light tunic she’d worn to bed the previous night. “We need to get her out of that chiton and we’ll need water no doubt.” She strode over.

“Right, yes.” Kassandra lifted Savina’s legs onto the bed. “I’m going to let you handle that.” She gently extricated herself from Savina’s clinging embrace. Sweat was running down her brow, darkening the hair at her temples and as Kassandra freed her hands, she reached down, clutching at her midriff, grimacing.

“Are you in pain?” Kyra sat down beside her and caught hold of her grasping fingers. “There’s pain in your stomach?” 

“A little, not much, it's strange, not pain exactly, the light, the light hurts my eyes, and my head… Kyra?” She seemed to gather her wits suddenly. “What’s happening?” Kassandra was closing the doors to the balcony and lighting lamps. “What am I doing here? Did I faint?”

“There’s something wrong, Savina.” Kyra cradled her cheek. “You were taken ill when you got back from shopping. Do you recall shopping with Phoibe and Kassandra?”

“Yes, there was… I can’t remember properly, it's like my mind is full of fog, and there’s a pain, I have a pain in my head.” She raised a hand to her temple. “It’s.” Her eyes drifted closed and she slumped against the pillows.

“Gods,” Kyra bit her lip. “Where’s Rhea?!”

“Patience love.” Kassandra came to stand behind her, rubbing her shoulders. “The guard rode out to find her, they’ll be back soon.”

“What’s wrong with her? Did something happen while you were out?”

“Nothing I’m aware of. I’d have mentioned it before now. She seemed a little unwell from first thing don’t you think? She seemed to worsen while we were at the dressmaker’s”

Savina moaned suddenly and began to writhe, tossing her head on a pillow already damp with sweat.

“Where the fuck is Rhea!” Kyra sounded close to panic.

“Right the fuck here, thank you for asking Archon.” The door opened and Rhea bustled in, a voluminous leather bag over one shoulder. “What’s going on here now? There’s clearly no rest for the wicked.” She stopped by the bed and eyed Savina for a moment, before surveying the room.

“Right!” she clapped her hands. “Kassandra, make yourself useful and bring that table over here so I’ve got something to work from, then give me a hand undressing her. And we’ll need some water. Cool for bathing her and warm for mixing my herbs.”

Kassandra followed the first instruction swiftly enough, then withdrew, inching towards the door.

“Where in Hades are you sidling off to?” Rhea looked up from unpacking her tools and potions. “Get the girl out of her robe, it should be second nature to you by now, no?”

“I don’t think Savina would like that Rhea, not once she’s well again.”

“Well thank you for the vote of confidence at least, that’s always encouraging. Are you going to make a note of this, Archon? Today Kassandra of Sparta declined the opportunity to remove an attractive woman’s clothes.”

“She has a point.” Kyra noticed Kassandra’s wounded expression. “Savina is very much not herself at the moment. I’ll undress her.”

“I imagine you’ve less experience, but we’ll manage between us,” Rhea shrugged. Turning and seeing Kassandra’s downcast face she realised she’d been brusque and reached out to touch her arm. “I’m sorry my dear. You were absolutely right. I’m tired and old and currently overworked. Bring some water would you, please? Towels, dry sheets. And an empty bucket or something. Has she vomited?”

Kyra shook her head and looked quizzically at Kassandra.

“No, she’s just been sweaty and pale… and weird.”

“Weird?” Rhea had taken Kyra’s place and was beginning to examine Savina carefully. 

“Not herself,” Kyra elaborated, as Kassandra departed on her errand. “A little… I’m not sure how to express it really.”

“Simply is best, I’m an uncomplicated woman.” Rhea was feeling behind Savina’s ears, running her fingers down her throat, across her shoulders. 

“Well, a bit… forward with Kassandra? A good deal more… erm, flirtatious?”

“Interesting!” Rhea got to her feet and clapped her hands. “Out of these damp clothes, give me a hand.”

Kyra helped lift and roll Savina. The back of her chiton was heavy with sweat, but her skin felt chilly. Rhea examined her as they worked, checking her armpits and groin, opening her mouth and looking at her tongue. 

“That’s a bit odd, see that discolouration there?” She leaned aside to let Kyra peer in.

“What is it?” She gathered up the discarded loincloth, hugging the bundle of clothes to her chest.

“No idea yet,” Rhea shook her head. “It’s not the bloody fish though if you were worried about that. That wasn’t like this at all.”

“Well that’s a relief.” Kyra dropped the damp clothes into the laundry and returned to Rhea’s side.

“Is it?” She looked up, expression non-committal. “There’s more sickness in the world than a catch of tainted fish.”

Kyra watched as Rhea examined Savina’s fingernails, under her breasts, the backs of her knees.

“Well she looks perfect,” she sighed at last, drawing the sheet up over her. “That  _ is _ a relief, by the way.”

“It is?”

“Mmm, it certainly is. I was having a drink with Barnabas last night. What an entertaining fellow he is. And rather dashing, even with his milky eye, don’t you think?” She saw Kyra’s impatient eyeroll. “Anyway. He’d been talking with a merchant who’d stopped in to resupply. They’d been turned back from Chios without being allowed to unload or even dock. There’s sickness there. No one’s allowed on or off the island till the healers get it under control.”

“Oh gods… a plague?” Kyra gasped.

“Whoa now, let’s not be so eager to bandy around the P word.” Rhea patted her hand. “If it was anything like that I’d have expected some blotches or pustules somewhere, but she’s immaculate. And the governor of Chios seems to be doing the right thing. Not every sickness is a plague, and not every outbreak has to spread. Come in!” She shouted in answer to the knock at the door.  “She’s become very civilized hasn’t she?” she smirked as Kassandra came in with a bucket in one hand, and an armful of linens. Behind her stood Phoibe, carrying the empty bucket and small jug of hot water. 

“You must be young Phoibe,” Rhea smiled. “Don’t come in sweetheart until we’re sure what’s the matter with Savina. My name’s Rhea, you met my daughter I believe?”

“Nike?” Phoibe nodded, looking over at the bed, wide eyed. “Yes, she’s lovely. She said you were a healer.”

“That I am, and she told me you were a charming young woman and smart as a whip. So I look forward to extending our acquaintance once Savina is well again.”

“Can you make her better?” Phoibe asked, hopeful but hesitant.

“Well, not to blow my own horn, but if I can’t then I’d like to meet who can.” Rhea watched Kassandra take the bucket and jug from her and waved for her to bring them to the bedside.

“How’s that  _ not _ blowing your own horn?” Kassandra asked wryly.

“I did say “if I can’t”, that’s leaving a margin for doubt, no?”

“Phoibe,” Kassandra went back and hunkered down in front of her. “Will you go and keep Cymone company? And look after Orion? Let Praxos know what’s going on? Can I rely on you to do that? Good girl.” She patted her cheek as she nodded, and watched her make her way to the stairs, glancing back over her shoulder a couple of times.

“Right, Kassandra?” Rhea turned to her. “You spent time with her, tell me everything that happened today.”

“Well,” she frowned thoughtfully. “We got back and she was already acting a bit strange and her eyes were odd.”

“Oh, we’re starting at the end and working back to the beginning, are we?” Rhea sighed. “Well that’s one way of doing it.”

“Right, sorry. Well she was late for work, so that was odd.”

“It wasn’t anything sinister though,” Kyra interjected. “She’d been having sex with her husband, she wasn’t ill.”

“Well I don’t blame her,” Rhea grinned. “He’s a gorgeous beast. It's a damn shame they’ve not been able to have a baby yet. But I imagine they’re enjoying trying… what’s up with you?” She glanced at Kassandra. “Don’t pout now,” she patted her arm, “you’re gorgeous too, and you have better legs. So? She rushes in all of a flap because she’s late for work.”

“She had some water, cooled off a bit, we went into town. The three of us had grilled chicken at that little stall. She looked a bit pale, but she was chatting happily with Phoibe. We went to the dressmaker’s and she started to look really ill. Sweating and a bit… vacant. But it wasn’t till we’d finished and went outside that I saw how poorly she looked. She was leaning on my arm a lot by the time we got back. We’d gone to find Kyra when she passed out in the kitchen. She sort of kept slipping in and out of consciousness, and she was saying things she’d never normally say.”

“So I believe,” Rhea gave her an arch smile. “Well this is an odd one and no mistake.”

Her musing was interrupted by a knock at the door. Sighing, Kassandra went to answer it. To everyone’s surprise it was one of the stable staff. Clearly unaccustomed to being inside the villa, he was shifting nervously from foot to foot and picking at the brim of his hat.

“Beg pardon, Misthios. I’m sorry to interrupt, what with Mistress Savina being taken ill and…”

“Yes, that’s all right.” She reined in her impatience and patted his shoulder. “Just get to the point?”

“Your goat Misthios,” he swallowed. “The black and brown nanny?”

“Yes?” she sighed. “What about her?”

“Well… she’s dead Misthios.”

“She’s what now?” She frowned. “How did that happen?”

“I’m damned if I know Misthios, I swear. She was fit as a flea this morning. Mistress Cymone fed her the scraps while Mistress Phoibe milked her. She ate like… well like a goat, and gave a good jug of milk… then just now… I’ve gone in her shed and…” He tailed off miserably, perhaps fearful that he was going to be blamed for the unexpected demise.

Kassandra pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes for a few moments. She really didn’t have the time or the inclination to deal with this now. “Right,” she took a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me. Make sure that goat does not make her way to the kitchen. We don’t know what killed her.”

“Should I bury her, Misthios? Or burn her, or what?”

“Burn her please. Somewhere Phoibe won’t stumble on it.” Closing the door she leaned back against it and shook her head.

“Well they do say it never rains but it pours.” Rhea was busily grinding herbs. “I’m sorry for your loss Misthios,” she observed dryly.

“You’re very kind. Phoibe will be -” She stopped suddenly, her expression stunned.

“What is it, love?” Kyra looked up, still stroking Savina’s hand gently.

“It’s those fucking buns!” Kassandra exclaimed.

“Excuse me?” Rhea raised her eyebrows.

“It’s the buns!” She radiated excitement. “Cymone put them with the goat scraps remember?” She waved a hand at Kyra.

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with this,” she nodded towards Savina.

“But it does.” Kassandra was pacing now. “I palmed one whilst Cymone was going on about the baker. When we got outside I gave it to Savina because she… oh gods,” she stopped mid stride and looked guiltily at the bed. “I gave it to Savina. She said it tasted a bit odd. I took a bite and it was… unusual, but not unpleasant. She ate the whole thing. She ate the whole thing Kyra and then she got ill. The goat ate the others and now it's dead!”

“Well that’s a useful bit of information, well done goat,” Rhea nodded. “Rest peacefully wherever good goats rest. Wherever it is, I imagine it's sparsely populated. What sort of buns then?”

“They had a sweet bean paste in them.” Kyra was frowning thoughtfully as she explained. “Beans crushed and strained, thickened with some ground almonds, sweetened with honey and spices. We used to make them back during the rebellion.”

“Dried beans?” Rhea stroked Savina’s forehead. “They can cause poisoning, if they aren’t prepared correctly. But I’ve seen that, quite a few times, it doesn’t come on like this. All the same, let’s see if we can improve matters by giving her something emetic eh?” She began to rummage in a large drawstring bag. “You’re not going to be fond of me in a few minutes, sweetheart,” she patted Savina’s hand.

As she began to work, uncorking small vials and mixing powders, she was interrupted by a horrified gasp behind her. Kyra was sitting, wide eyed with her hands clapped to her mouth.

“What is it, love?” Kassandra frowned. 

“The rest of the buns,” Kyra breathed, lowering her hands slowly and gazing in horror at Kassandra. She looked at her in bemusement for a moment, then appalled realization spread across her face.

“Oh fucking hell!” she whispered.

“There is an awful lot of swearing going on in this sick room,” Rhea tutted. “What’s got you so rattled?”

“The buns were for the orphanage,” Kyra said quietly. “Praxos brought some back this morning. The rest of them are still there, unless the children have already…” she tailed off horrified.

“Oh... fucking hell,” Rhea agreed. She considered for a moment and then turned sharply to Kassandra. “You ride to that orphanage as though the Furies are on your tail. If they’ve already eaten them, get Theis, explain what’s happened, she’ll know to give them emetics. Go on! Don’t just stand there! Ride!”

  
  



	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes indulge in some Nancy Drewing.

Something smelled absolutely delicious, Savina thought, woken by a fleeting, piquant pain in her jaw. She swallowed the rush of saliva that followed and took a deep breath. Onions and… fennel definitely. It seemed elaborate for breakfast. Perhaps Kittos was getting a head start on supper?

Why had she thought of breakfast? She couldn’t even think which day it was, let alone what time. Because she was lying down. Of course! Thank the gods she’d woken at last, she’d had such a strange dream. None of the details came back to her, just the emotions. Shame and pain and helplessness. Something dreadful had happened. Kyra was at the centre of it somehow, she could recall that. Something dreadful had been happening to Kyra, and she’d been unable to help in any way. The woman she loved almost as much as she loved Kittos had been struggling and in pain and Savina had been able to do nothing but observe from the sidelines.

Had it not been for Kyra she wouldn’t even be here now, lounging in this soft warm bed, smelling the delicious scent of food being prepared by her loving husband, listening to him humming her favourite melody. If Kyra hadn’t arrived when she did, all those years ago Savina would likely as not have been killed. Or if not, she would most certainly have killed herself afterwards. There was no way she’d have accepted the life that would have followed.

A hot tear ran down the side of her face, tickling in her ear like the feet of the tiniest insect imaginable. She gave a full body shudder. There was no need for that. None of those terrible things had happened, not her awful dreams, not at the hands of the slavers. She was safe. She had people she loved, who loved her in return. Most of all Kittos.

She should get up and go down to the kitchen to help him. Did they have a day off work? Was that why he was singing happily and preparing a meal? That would be wonderful. The uncharacteristic desire to lounge in bed all day came over her. Perhaps she could persuade Kittos to come back and join her? She felt herself blushing warmly, as a soft glow of arousal spread through her body.

But it was so hard to open her eyes. She gave a leisurely stretch. He would come back up to check on her when he’d finished, surely? Slip under the covers beside her. Take her in his strong arms. Kiss the nape of her neck softly, tickling with his beard. Though? How could she hear him so clearly if she was upstairs in bed? It sounded as though he was right here with her. 

Suddenly the whole room seemed to lurch and spin and she felt as though she was spinning with it, jerking to an abrupt stop, sitting up now. Definitely sitting up. She could feel a stiff chair back against her shoulders.

Opening her eyes she blinked a few times. The whole room seemed to be filled with a thick white mist that obscured everything beyond the cleanly scrubbed table she sat at.

“I hope you’re hungry?” His voice must be muffled by the fog, because it sounded like him but  _ not _ like him somehow. 

“Very,” she smiled, as the mist shrouded figure approached the table and placed a plate in front of her. He managed to lean all the way over the table and select a… what was that? A bean? He held it to her lips, brushing against them with his fingertips as she opened her mouth.

“That’s a good girl.” That did  _ not _ sound like him at all, she decided, not the words or the voice. It was warm and familiar, made the hairs prickle along her arms, but definitely not Kittos. How odd. Chewing thoughtfully she tried to place it. Even the brush of the fingers had felt familiar. This tasted strange. Not unpleasant, but unusual. It tasted nothing like what she’d smelt earlier. Looking down at the plate she saw a fat, juicy fish nestled on a bed of dressed vegetables. Fragrant steam rose from the deep slashes in its side and the skin was crisp and golden.

“Eat up now.” That was a woman’s voice, no? “You didn’t have breakfast and you’re going to need to keep your strength up.” 

For what? She found she was rather looking forward to finding out. She reached down for the knife to ease the tender flesh from the bones. Before she could touch it though the fish turned its head to look at her with a milky eye. 

“Don’t do that!” it winked. How was it winking? Fish couldn’t wink? “You can’t eat me, lovely. I’m a bad fish, a very bad fish!” it grinned at her with a mouth full of glistening human teeth, one prominent canine glinting cheekily.

Savina dropped the knife. As it bounced noiselessly on the table the whole room shifted again, making her head swim. She closed her eyes and tried to regain her senses. She was standing now, there was something in her hands. The plate? It felt like a plate.

“Can you open those pretty eyes for me?” No, that absolutely was  _ not _ Kittos. Not at all. She did as she was asked, and saw Kassandra standing in front of her, so close that she could see herself reflected in those remarkable eyes, smell the scent of resin on her breath. Savina swallowed hard as that earlier glow of arousal returned, harder and hotter now. Kassandra reached out to her and gently teased a lock of hair back behind her ear.

“That’s better,” she smiled, tilting her head. Her hair was loose, gathered over one shoulder, leaving the other bare, so Savina could see the pale tracks of scar tissue. She lowered her eyes. Kassandra was wearing a deep red chiton, off one shoulder and slit up the sides. Only a gold chain about her waist kept modesty somewhat intact. Savina had never even imagined her dressed like this, and she shouldn’t be looking now, she licked her lips nervously. Though why not? This was so clearly a dream. She allowed her eyes to drift slowly up from her ankle past her knee, up her powerful thigh, across her clearly naked hip.

“You looked so poorly this morning,” Kassandra smiled. “We were all worried about you. Perhaps you need to eat something?” She caught Savina’s chin in the lightest of touches, raising it so their eyes met. “Or perhaps _ I  _ do?” She caught her lower lip between sharp, white teeth, tilting her head invitingly as she did.

The plate dropped from Savina’s hands, shattering musically at her feet and turning into a swathe of golden cloth. Somehow the fish remained hovering in front of her. It leered saucily, its eyes white and bulbous. “Don’t look a gift Spartan in the mouth,” it advised before turning into a cascade of smoky water that smelled unpleasantly of charcoal and ammonia.

Kassandra leaned down, fixing Savina with orange eyes, as deep and dangerous as a big cat’s. Dangerous? Yes, certainly. But not to Savina. She had nothing to fear, not from Kassandra. From elsewhere though? She frowned, feeling rather than seeing a dark shadowy figure lurking behind her.

“You look a little wet Savina.” Kassandra grinned foxily, arching an eyebrow and taking in the soaked cloth of her chiton. “Are you?” she whispered.

“Oh gods yes,” she blurted without thinking. “I mean, no, it's just, it's hot. Don’t you think it's hot? I feel hot.” It was true, she could feel a trickle of sweat running down the valley of her breasts.

“You’re definitely raising _ my _ temperature, Savina,” Kassandra nosed aside her hair, teased the shell of her ear with the tip of her tongue.

“But… your wife?” She made a feeble, half hearted attempt to bring them both to their senses.

“Why do you keep saying that?” Kassandra pulled back, tilting her head, smiling quizzically. “You know she’s not my wife.”

“But she so obviously is!” she protested, frustrated. Anyone could see it. How could a great hunter be so unobservant? They were halfway to adopting a little girl together for Artemis’ sake.

“Don’t bring the goddess into this sacrilege.” A faint voice muttered behind her. Who was that? She’d heard it before, a man’s voice, snide, malicious. If she turned her head she’d be able to see him.

“Didn’t you hear that?” she frowned, “that voice?”

“I heard only the voice of my desire, lovely one,” Kassandra’s lips were tracing the line of Savina’s jaw, as her fingers, strong and calloused, drifted up her arms, teasing at the clasps of her chiton. “Are you still too warm?” she murmured. “Because I can do something about that.” Under the sharp scent of pine on her breath there was something else, something odd and vaguely metallic, reminiscent of the forge. Savina had tasted something like it recently.

But what did it matter? What did any of it matter? Kassandra was warm and solid against her, and her voice was like honey in her ear. She turned back to her, looked into her eyes and saw her own desire reflected there. It was just a dream, after all.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Yes, I am.”

To her surprise Kassandra withdrew her hands and took a step back.

“That was all I needed to hear.” She clicked her fingers crisply and Savina gasped as her chiton turned to golden liquid and melted down her body to the floor, spreading out like fragrant beeswax. She was naked beneath it and her initial instinct was to cover her sex with her hand, to cross an arm over her breasts, but Kassandra was looking so longingly at her.

“Gods but you’re lovely,” she breathed. “Truly Aphrodite must have kissed your brow as you lay in your cradle.”

“You will focus the wrath of the gods on us if you continue like this.”

There it was again! That damnable voice. Couldn’t he mind his own business? But those words. Hadn’t she heard those very words once before?

“Didn’t you hear that Kassandra?”

“Of course I did.” She stepped closer and put her hands on Savina’s hips, caressing slowly, easing around to the small of her back, travelling up to her shoulder blades. The callouses on her palms were rough, but her touch was so gentle. She would never have imagined, she thought, shivering beneath it.

“Those voices are always there. “What will your mother think? What will people say? You fly in the face of nature!” There’s not enough love in the world Savina,” she cradled her cheek, rubbing softly at the angle of her jaw. “And there are people resentful and bitter when they encounter it. They turn their backs on Aphrodite’s blessing and interpret it as a curse. There is no evil in love, sweetheart. Pity them, but don’t pay them any heed.”

But that voice? It was so familiar. The words it had spoken, she’d heard them long ago, but the voice. Hadn’t she heard that voice quite recently? If only she could think clearly. If only her mind wasn’t so foggy. Despite Kassandra’s urging, it seemed important that she remember. It felt like the missing piece to a puzzle. 

But now Kassandra was lifting her chin, darting the wet, pink tip of her tongue out to moisten her lips, bending to meet Savina’s mouth and she tasted of honey and hot metal, her fingers were firm against her jaw but her tongue was gentle as she licked into her mouth, and nothing else mattered suddenly.

“Is she in pain?” Kyra looked from the bed where Savina twitched and moaned, over to Rhea who had begun to gather up her supplies. “Does she need more medicine?”

“No. There was a little milk of poppy already in what I gave her.” She placed a motherly hand on Savina’s brow and crooned softly, till she settled. “She’s dreaming is all, it happens often with those herbs. Do I need to write down the dosages and times for you? I don’t want you killing the poor girl with kindness.”

Kyra shook her head and going over to the table where Rhea had laid out pouches of herbs and a small vial, she rattled off her earlier instructions.

“Well done,” Rhea was packing away her equipment now. She gave a wry smile. “Brings back memories I suppose?”

“Memories I could do without.” Kyra perched on the edge of the bed and took Savina’s hand. “She’s been such a long time. I wish she’d come back. I need to know what’s happening.” It sounded as though she was talking to herself, but they both knew who she meant.

“Well brace yourself my sweet.” Rhea was washing her hands. “It can’t be good news, you realise that? If she’d got there in time, she’d have been back long ago. I could do with her coming back myself, I need to go and help Theis.” She rubbed her aching back. “Thank the gods that woman’s here, and that she’s as good as she is.”

“Go, Rhea.” Kyra caught her eye. “I know what needs doing. You’ve worked so hard. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am.”

“You know, Kyra,” she had opened the balcony doors to let in some air, and stood there looking out at the darkening sky, “everyone thinks the healer just concerns themselves with their patient. The one broken or bloodied. But our care must extend beyond them if we are to be worthy of the name. I am not leaving until Kassandra arrives to take over  _ your _ care.”

As she spoke there was a rap on the door and the woman in question cautiously peeped in. Seeing Savina modestly covered, she entered.

“I’m sorry I was so long,” she poured herself a cup of water and drained it in one thirsty pull. “I was too late,” she said sadly, refilling it and drinking more slowly. “But I’m sure you’d worked that out for yourselves. How is she?” Walking over to the bed, she kissed Kyra’s cheek before looking at the sleeping patient.

“Difficult to tell yet,” Rhea folded her arms. “I’ve done what I can. If there was anything in her stomach it’s in the latrine pit now. I’ve made that poor girl sick as a dog.”

Kyra winced as she thought back to Savina’s look of confused betrayal as she heaved violently over the bowl.

“I’d have liked to get to her sooner, but you work with what you’re given. Now we wait and hope that she’ll fight through what’s left. She’s strong and healthy, I’ve examined her myself before now. She has as good a chance as anyone outside yourself, Misthios.” She picked up her bag and swung it over her shoulder, looking closer to her age than Kassandra had ever seen before. “So what awaits me at the orphanage? A slew of delirious youngsters?”

“It’s not all of them thankfully. Some were too young to eat, some only had a mouthful, but there are enough.” She filled her cup with wine and took a grateful sip. “There was an ocean of vomit, I’ll tell you that.”

“What a pity I missed it,” Rhea observed dryly. “Though we had our share here of course.”

“Theis has given them something to calm them and help them sleep, but I know she’ll be glad to see you. Let me drink this and I’ll take you over there.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. One of the Archon’s overpaid, underworked guards can take me. I was waiting for you to arrive so I could hand over my duty.” She put a gentle hand on her arm. “You’ve someone here who needs you,” she said quietly, darting her eyes towards the bed.

Once she’d left, Kassandra turned her attention to Kyra. “You look exhausted love,” she stroked her cheek, feeling her lean gratefully into her touch. “Get in bed with Savina, it’ll be a comfort to her. Talk to her a little. Take it from me, you can hear the voices of your loved ones, even like this. It's soothing.”

She averted her eyes as Kyra lifted the sheets and slipped in beside her friend. “I’ll go and get you something to eat.” She looked back at Kyra’s assurances that she wasn’t hungry. “That’s as maybe, but have you eaten anything since this morning?”

“A little.” Kassandra greeted Kyra’s lie with the laughter it deserved. “Stay though, please Kassandra. I needed you so badly today. I’m so scared.”

“You heard Rhea. Savina is strong and healthy.”

“Not just about Savina,” Kyra interrupted. “I’m concerned about the children. This is all my fault, Kassandra.”

“How so?” she sat down, frowning.

“How so?!” She looked at her in disbelief. “I sent those damned rolls there. They were my idea. I encouraged Melina to give them to the children. What if -”

“Hey now,” Kassandra took her hand. “You had the best of intentions.”

“I don’t think Savina appreciated my good intentions when she was vomiting herself inside out earlier. And I’m confident the children won’t!”

“If you want to beat yourself up about this, I don’t suppose I can stop you. But you had no way of knowing that there would be anything wrong with them.”

“And that’s the other thing,” Kyra was unconvinced. “If the supplies are tainted then -”

Kassandra held up a hand to silence her. “Stop there, Kyra. Savina ate the roll this morning and just hours later, she was like this. If the supplies were tainted, we would have heard of other people being ill long before now.”

As she said this something began to nibble at the back of her mind like a rat at a biscuit. There was something odd. Not just about this latest business but about everything that was going on. There was something, some answer to it, right under her nose, but she was so tired that she couldn’t see it. 

She filled a cup with wine for Kyra and insisted she emptied it, knowing full well that on an empty stomach, after the stress of the day, she would quickly be asleep. As soon as her prediction proved true she tucked the sheets neatly about them, brushed a kiss to Kyra’s brow and went to wash.

What she would have liked, more than anything, was to go and wash at the pump in the yard as she did back in Sami. To strip off these clothes with their lingering smell of the sick room and hold her head under the stream of frigid pump water. Instead she contented herself with dropping her dirty tunic in the overflowing laundry hamper, filling the wash bowl and plunging her face under the tepid surface until the sour tang of vomit left her nostrils.

Hair still damp, she strolled out onto the balcony, a cup of wine in one hand and a soft, well washed tunic in the other. She sprawled in one of the comfortable chairs there and sipped her wine as she tried to piece together the puzzle she had fleetingly glimpsed earlier. Her mind was so foggy with exhaustion that she couldn’t even recall what had triggered her suspicion. It was like having all the fragments of a broken dish before her but being unable to reassemble them, or even recognise the shape that she was aiming for. 

Irritated by her dullness she got up and went to refill her cup. There was a knock at the door as she did and when she called out to enter, it opened a few inches and Praxos’ wary face peeped in, with Phoibe’s below at waist height. Seeing Kassandra in her underwear he blushed awkwardly and was about to make his apologies and withdraw, but Phoibe had already shouldered open the door and trotted in.

“How is she?” he asked, making his way over to the bed, studiously avoiding looking at Kassandra.

“As well as can be expected,” she smiled despite everything. It seemed odd that he would choose to focus on Kyra and Savina entwined in bed, Savina evidently naked beneath the sheets, rather than look at Kassandra partially clothed. 

Phoibe had no such qualms of course. She had her arms around Kassandra’s hips and her face nestled against her belly as she gazed anxiously at the bed. “Is Savina going to get better?”

“I hope so,” she placed a hand on her head. “Rhea’s done all she can. Savina is strong and healthy. It's up to her now.”

“I’ll make a prayer to the Twins,” Praxos said quietly, his fingers plucking anxiously at his beard.

“Yes, you do that,” Kassandra nodded, more polite than enthusiastic. For a woman like Savina to be lying there as sick as she was, the gods must surely be sleeping on the job. Or off seducing unwitting mortals. Whatever they were doing, it was not keeping an eye on those who revered them.

When he’d bid them goodnight and closed the door after him, Phoibe looked up. She was tearfully chewing at her lip. “Can I stay in here with you tonight? Please Kassandra? I won’t be any trouble I -”

“Shush now. Of course you can. I’m sleeping in that chair though,” she nodded to the balcony. “It won’t be that comfortable.”

“I don’t mind,” Phoibe was looking at the bed, evidently puzzled. “It’s a really big bed though?”

Kassandra laughed, tension broken for a moment. “If you want to get into bed, then by all means do. But Savina would be deeply unimpressed if she woke next to  _ me _ in the middle of a puppy pile.”

“Really? I think she’d just be glad to wake up and be all right.”

“Hey,” Kassandra hunkered down and turned Phoibe to face her. “I can’t promise obviously. Someone told me they aren’t pie crusts after all,” she teased gently. “But I have a feeling she’s going to be all right. She’s tougher than she looks. Now you go and get ready for bed. I’m going to push those chairs together for us.”

Once Phoibe had left, Kassandra stood looking at the scene in the bed for a while. Under any other circumstance it would have been charming at the very least, and possibly a good deal more. Savina had rolled over to nestle her head against Kyra’s chest, and was clutching at the shoulder of her tunic. But her brows were creased and her hair, dark and lank with sweat, clung to her cheek.

“I hope you can hear me Savina,” she said quietly, pulling the sheet up around them a little more modestly. “You had better be as strong as I think you are. Because if anything happens to you, and Kyra feels responsible? Well, let’s just say that I’ve got enough on my plate right now, without having to go and argue with Hades to get you back.”

When Phoibe returned a few minutes later, she had her lynx skin blanket in her arms.

“Well it looks like we’re going to be pretty comfortable after all,” Kassandra smiled. She’d arranged the chairs on opposite sides of the low table so she could recline in one and stretch out her legs.

“I’m sorry about your goat,” Phoibe murmured, once they were nestled together under the skins.

“Ah!” Kassandra raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t want you to find out about that. I wanted to tell you myself.”

“I wasn’t supposed to hear. Or to hear about the orphans.”

Kassandra swore softly and hugged Phoibe tighter, immensely relieved that she’d agreed to let her sleep with her. She’d done it for her own comfort as much as Phoibe’s she admitted to herself. It had been a grim day, and the prospect of lying out here alone had filled her with no pleasure. But the idea of Phoibe lying awake worrying about Savina and thinking about a group of children her own age being similarly afflicted, didn’t bear considering.

“Kyra must be really upset,” it wasn’t a question. “Will they be all right?”

“I can’t say little one. Not really. But they have Theis and Rhea looking after them and they are two of the finest healers I’ve ever met.”

“And you’ve met a few,” Phoibe managed a smile.

“Indeed. But they’ve both saved my life. If _ they  _ can’t help those children then I don’t think anyone can.”

“Poor Kyra. She would have stayed with Savina even if it had been something dangerous, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes. She would. She and Savina love each other very much. Kyra… well she didn’t have much in the way of family.”

“I know,” she felt Phoibe nod against her chest. “Praxos told me. About his sister, and about Kyra’s mater. Is that what you meant when you said we had things in common?”

Kassandra nodded and pressed a kiss to her head. “I’m sorry Phoibe. When I asked you to come and live here, I never imagined all this chaos. We haven’t even had the chance to go fishing or swimming.”

“You did say that there was lots going on here.”

“I meant celebrations and festivals. A busy dock, not this mess,” she sighed.

“It’s just shit luck.” 

“Ey, language!”

She felt Phoibe shrug. “Oh barely,” she protested. “I heard the maids talking while they were doing the laundry. They said some people think it's because the gods are angry with Kyra.”

“Did they now?” Kassandra ventured cautiously. “And did they say why?”

“Because of you, it sounds like. But I don’t think they believe it, because the one with the red hair said Artemis could be pissed at her all she liked if it meant she got the chance to -”

“I get the picture!” Kassandra interrupted quickly. “They shouldn’t be talking like that around you.”

“Oh they didn’t know I was there!” Phoibe snorted. “I was on the roof of that porch thing. But they wouldn’t be talking like that if they really thought the gods were angry. The other one, with the ponytail? She thinks it's someone who doesn’t want Kyra to be Archon any more. She thinks it's some rich person who wants the job for themself so they can get richer.”

“And what do you think?” Kassandra prodded.

“I think that makes more sense. It wouldn’t be a poor person because Kyra’s helping the poor people right? And it's definitely not the gods, that makes no sense.”

“I agree, but I’d like to hear your reasoning.”

“Why would the gods be angry with someone like Kyra?” Phoibe leaned up, arms braced on Kassandra’s chest. She looked bright and interested now. “Because she’s having sex with a woman? That’s stupid. Zeus turned himself into a swan! A swan?! They’d break your arm as soon as look at you for one thing. _ That’s _ weird! Not having sex with another woman. And you’re not just any woman! You -” she interrupted herself and pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment.

“I’m not going to say anything about your pater, but you’ve got to admit, the gods have given you lots of gifts? You’re bigger and stronger and braver than anyone else I’ve ever met. And I saw you jump off Zeus that one time! You’re favoured by the gods, you can’t deny that. So maybe Kyra’s even another gift from them? It’s more likely she’s doing what the gods want when she has sex with you, not that they’d be angry with her for it!”

“I take your point,” Kassandra nodded slowly. “But don’t keep saying “having sex”, it’s making my skin crawl.”

Phoibe snorted in derision, then counted on her fingers. “That’s one thing. Then, she’s a good person, right? Praxos and Cymone and Savina, they all love her. If good people think you’re a good person then you must be, right?  _ You _ love her and  _ you’re _ a good person… don’t make that face,” she nudged her. “You are! And I saw her at the orphanage that morning. I saw how happy they were to see her. If the gods are angry with a good person like that… well I don’t believe it.”

“Neither do I,” Kassandra smiled, pleased by her enthusiasm.

“And that’s another thing. The orphanage! Cymone says she built that. Not from the ground up of course. But the other Archon? The bad one? He used to keep all the money and jewels and whatnot that he’d stolen, right there in that building. Then when his cronies saw that you and Kyra were going to kick his ass, they ran off with it all. And Kyra turned it into an orphanage. That’s a good person right? And she reveres Artemis. Praxos says she prays at that little shrine place every time she goes hunting. And she goes to temple, but not like those people who go and sacrifice a goat and then do whatever they like afterwards. She goes to temple and then she does good things, like making sure widows are cared for, and looking after those orphans, and,” she was tripping over her tongue in her excitement. “Look at her now,” she nodded to the bed. “Looking after Savina. She’d still be doing that if she had the plague, you said so yourself.”

“You make a sound argument. It's not the gods' wrath,” Kassandra indicated that she should lower her voice a little. “So, what do  _ you _ think is going on?”

Phoibe pursed her lips, deep in thought for a few moments, then she took a breath and leaned down closer, voice quieter. “Clio used to say that just because you had the plague it didn’t mean you couldn’t break your leg.”

“That sounds like something she’d say, but, I’m not sure I follow.”

“Two bad things can happen at the same time, and have nothing to do with each other. Just sh - bad luck. And then Selene used to say that the best place to hide a scroll is in a library.”

“Yeah, I definitely don’t follow now.”

“Well if you put a scroll in a building full of… oh right,” she caught Kassandra's offended expression. “How's it relevant you mean?” She shuffled a little more upright, digging Kassandra in the ribs with her elbows as she settled. 

“Well, here’s what _ I  _ think,” she’d lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper now. “Most of the things have just been accidents. The reef getting poisoned? Accident. That little boy’s parents being killed by wolves? Accident. There was a silo fire? Accident. Those girls drowning? Accide-”

“What girls drowning?” Kassandra interrupted the depressing recitation.

“Oh, it was when you were coming to get me,” Phoibe explained. “Just after you left. Two girls… well, older than me, but not full women yet. They went to swim in some bay off the other side of the island. Didn’t come home. When their people went to look, they just found their clothes and bits of the picnic. But the crabs probably did for the picnic,” she shrugged. “Now people are bringing that up because they never found their bodies. But there’s loads of reasons for that. Currents, sharks, they dived too deep and got trapped in rocks, crabs would clean up all the remains,” she pointed out matter of factly. “Accident.”  She took a breath and pursed her lips thoughtfully, then wriggled a bit further up Kassandra’s body to continue. “But these rolls. I think someone did  _ that _ on purpose.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“To make people believe Kyra is bringing them bad luck, or the gods’ wrath or some nonsense like that. Whoever it is saw all these accidents happening, heard people grumbling and took his chance… or her chance I suppose. But I think it's probably a man, because that’s another thing. Did you know some people think women shouldn’t be Archon?”

“I had heard,” Kassandra suppressed a smile at her outrage.

“And some people on Delos are angry that she’s encouraging healers and wants to send girls to school. I’m glad we don’t live on Delos, I’ll tell you that for nothing. But anyway. This whoever it is, hears people grumbling and thinks, what would really make people upset? Ooh! Sick orphans. It doesn’t get much worse than that, right? He sticks his scroll in the library you see? I suppose he could have started the silo fire too. Maybe he thought all the grain would get ruined and then people would be hungry. People get scared and angry when they’re hungry. That’s what I think anyway. I’m not totally sure about the silos, but I’m certain about the rolls.”

She stopped and looked expectantly at Kassandra. In the dim lamplight she could see her frowning deeply and chewing at her lower lip. With some difficulty she refrained from prodding for a response and waited.

Phoibe had assembled the pot, Kassandra thought. She didn’t know about the flood of scandalous pictures but they fitted in perfectly. Wait for a little general dissatisfaction. The sunken trade vessel, the threat of a grain shortage, then seed the ground with the pictures. Undermine the dignity of a well loved and respected Archon. Luck had favoured him. The Archon had left on a personal trip, trailing off after her notorious lover, a natural occurrence had poisoned the fish.

“I think you’re right Phoibe.”

“I knew it,” she tapped Kassandra’s nose playfully. “And I can help you get to the bottom of it.”

“You already  _ have _ helped little one, I was too tired and dense to make out the picture. You’ve been a huge help.”

“No, I mean  _ really _ help. To find out who the Orphan Poisoner is. That’s what I’m going to call him. I’m really sneaky, and good at listening.”

“I know you are Phoibe. You’re clever and sneaky and know what to listen out for.” Phoibe was grinning happily but her face fell as Kassandra continued. “And you’ve really helped already. But, I don’t want you to get involved in looking for him.”

“But -”

“No, listen Phoibe,” Kassandra stroked her back slowly. “It’s not because I don’t trust you, or I don’t think that you’re up to it, or that you’re too young.”

“But then why not? I want to help. I live here now, this is my home, Kyra’s my friend, she loves you and someone’s trying to make her look bad, trying to make her lose her job. Let me help? Please?”

Kassandra didn’t answer for a while, so long that Phoibe wondered if she was annoyed at her wheedling. But when she did respond there was something strange and thick about her voice.

“Phoibe. I don’t want you to get involved, because I’m scared.”

“But _I’m_ not!”

“No,” her laugh sounded odd. “I know you aren’t. And that makes me more scared. This person? They poisoned children, Phoibe! What kind of person poisons children?”

“A real asshole?” she ventured, hoping it might lighten her mood, but she didn’t reply, instead turning her head to look out at the balustrade. “I get why you’re worried, Kassandra, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t see me. I promise!”

Kassandra turned back to look at her, just as a cloud cleared the moon, and Phoibe saw with shock that her cheeks were wet with tears.

“Oh… pie crust promises, Phoibe,” she said quietly.

It suddenly hit her what a truly awful day Kassandra had had. Savina was her friend too. Kyra was no doubt distraught. And the gods alone knew what had happened at the orphanage. Kassandra didn’t give the impression that she was any more fond of children than she was any other group of people, but Phoibe had never seen her be anything other than kind and gentle with them. There would be other ways to help, she decided.

“I’m sorry Kassandra,” she dipped her head to kiss her cheek, tasting salt. “I’ll stay out of it. I promise, real promise.” She lay back down against her and nuzzled her head into the crook of her neck. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Thank you Phoibe.” She hugged her tightly. “If anything happened to you… I…” she tailed off.

“Selene would swim out here and kill you?” Phoibe tried to ease her embarrassment and was pleased to hear her laugh and to feel her playful squeeze.

“That she would, little one. And Clio would swim after her with a towel. There are other ways you can help,” she suggested.

“Yes, I know,” Phoibe rolled her eyes. “I can be a good girl around the villa and stay out of trouble.”

“You should be doing that anyway,” Kassandra teased. “No. I was thinking that when I find some clues about what’s going on, I could run them past you? You’re much better at connecting things than I am.”

“Yes!” Phoibe grinned, patting Kassandra’s hip happily. “I could be like the head spy, working it all out while you run round looking for clues.” She gave a sudden, huge yawn provoking an immediate echo from Kassandra. “And perhaps Savina will be better in the morning. She sounds quiet now, she’s not whimpering any more. Maybe Rhea’s medicine is working?”

“Let’s hope so,” Kassandra cast a weary glance over to the bed. “The gods certainly have no reason whatsoever to be angry with her, so perhaps you’re right.”


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our goat acquires a companion for her boat trip.

Kassandra’s first thought on waking the next morning was to be impressed that Phoibe had managed to extricate herself from her embrace without waking her. Her second, exciting to the point of being overwhelming, was that everyone’s prayers seemed to have been answered overnight.

Halfway to the bed, already exclaiming in delight, she had the third thought, much too late, that she should have allowed Savina to get dressed before she bounded over like an exuberant puppy. It was too late now though. She’d fully committed.

Kassandra was so completely overjoyed to see Savina sitting on the edge of the bed, looking pale and drawn admittedly, that she found it far easier to keep her eyes on her face than anyone would have imagined.

“Savina!” She dropped heavily to her knees before her and took hold of Savina's face in both hands. “Oh Savina, Savina, Savina!” She pressed a hard, chaste kiss to her astonished lips. “Thank the gods! Praxos must whisper directly into the ear of Artemis.” She pulled her into a great bear hug.

“Please don’t, Misthios, I smell dreadful.” Savina made a muffled protest against her shoulder. 

Kassandra took hold of her upper arms, and leaning back gave a huge, theatrical sniff.  “You smell of sweat and that god-awful medicine that Rhea is so fond of. And you’ve never seemed more beautiful. Kyra, love, isn’t she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?” She grinned up at Kyra, who was standing by the bed, looking reluctantly amused, with one of Kassandra’s nightshirts in her hand.

“She’s definitely _one_ of them,” Kyra smiled fondly at the unlikely scene, before holding up the shirt. “Under the circumstances I don’t imagine you will begrudge her the use of one of your nightshirts?”

“Savina, my sweet, you can wear my bloody armour if you like!” Kassandra realised guiltily that the colour was returning to Savina’s face in the form of a furious blush and that she was trying her best to drag the sheet over her lap with one hand, while covering her breasts with the other arm. She got to her feet, turning her back, a little late in the day she had to confess. “I’m sorry Savina, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I was overcome with relief.” She heard Kyra helping her with the nightshirt. 

“Not at all, Misthios, I’m sure,” Savina’s voice sounded hoarse, as though her throat was sore. “I can only imagine how much I have to thank you for. I remember nothing at all after we left the dressmaker yesterday.”

Kassandra wondered if that was the honest truth, or simply the least embarrassing option, but she had no desire to tease her now.  “Does Phoibe know you’re awake?” She selected a clean, modestly cut tunic, hauling it on as she dragged her boots from beneath the bed with her foot.

“No?” Kyra shook her head. “Did she sleep in here last night?”

“Mmm, she didn’t want to be on her own. And if I’m honest, neither did I,” Kassandra grinned at them. “You really put the wind up everyone, you know.”

“I must have scared Phoibe,” Savina murmured, sounding guilty.

“She’ll forget all about it the moment she sees you awake and back to yourself. I’m going to go and tell her, so ready yourself for more excitable hugs,” she winked. “I’ll ask Cymone to send up some breakfast. Then I am going to lend a hand at the orphanage. The little ones won’t be bouncing around just yet, but hopefully everyone managed to get some sleep last night.” She strode over and kissed Kyra just as firmly as she had Savina, but a good deal less chastely. “When I get back I want to tell you something that Phoibe and I were talking about last night.”

Kassandra was entirely right about Phoibe’s reaction. Her gasp of delighted surprise was unfortunately timed to coincide with a mouthful of eggs and Praxos had to slap her on the back a couple of times before sweeping her up onto his shoulders, and heading for the door, ducking almost into a full squat to safely clear it.

His thunderous galloping upstairs had no doubt telegraphed their approach because when they entered, Savina was sitting up, primly covered by blankets. Quite forgetting that they perhaps weren’t, strictly speaking, at this stage of their relationship yet, Phoibe scrabbled over the bed and wrapped her in a huge hug. Savina seemed momentarily surprised by the enthusiasm of the greeting, but recovered almost instantly, taking Phoibe in her arms and holding her close.

“I must have scared you, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Phoibe grinned up at her. Savina looked sweaty and tired and smelt of anything but her usual roses. Nevertheless Phoibe decided she was definitely one of the loveliest women she’d ever met and snuggled in close. “Kassandra used to scare me all the time back on Kephallonia. One time she came back from fighting bandits, and a bit of the top of her ear was dangling off and she had an arrow right through her arm, like going in the front and coming out of the back. She thought it was funny, but I nearly heaved and then Europa  _ did _ throw up and Selene told Kassandra to stop waggling that ear about, and she didn’t think it was so funny then.”

“Ah...well,” Savina gave this some queasy consideration while Praxos and Kyra exchanged smirks. “It seems I have some way to go to catch up then?”

“No! Don’t,” Phoibe shook her head. “It’s not as funny as she thinks it is. I’m really glad you’re… well not better, but getting better.”

“Aye, so am I lass,” Praxos patted Savina's cheek awkwardly. “Aegeus and I were terrified that we’d have to try and pick up your slack and, let’s be frank, we’re just not up to it.”

“Don’t be trying to get her back to work just yet,” Kyra laughed. “We are having a day off.”

“No Archon, I swear, I’m feeling much better, don’t let me detain you from your duties any longer.”

“Don’t be ridiculous girl,” Praxos chuckled. “Everyone could do with a breather given what we’re going through.”

“You are going to have a light breakfast, then a bath.” Kyra perched on the bed next to Savina. “I am going to wash your hair, find you something nicer to wear than Kassandra’s old nightshirt, and then Phoibe is going to show us her new wardrobe while we eat a pleasant lunch and wait for Kassandra to return from running hither and yon for the healers.”

It turned out that a youth spent using the public bath houses had left Savina a good deal less bashful about Phoibe’s presence in the bathroom than Kyra was, and so she found herself sitting at the end of the tub, happily scrubbing Savina’s feet with rather more vigour than required. Kyra had washed Savina’s hair for her and was now massaging scented oil through it as they treated Phoibe to carefully curated tales of Kassandra’s exploits on Mykonos.

“I don’t think he knows whose boots those were to this day,” Savina laughed. “Or how they got there.”

“Kassandra was furious, she’d just had them repaired. I remember her lying in bed muttering under her breath for ages. She actually got up at one point, to go and get them back. I had to get quite inventive to dissuade her.” Kyra gave Savina a playful look and then suddenly remembered Phoibe, perched at the end of the tub with her chin resting on her folded arms, listening intently. “I mean… I had to… she…”

“No,” Phoibe gave a matter of fact shrug. “That would definitely work. I remember once -” she stopped herself just in time, and smiled nervously at their expectant expressions. “She’s just… yes that would work.”

Both Phoibe and Kyra had rather hoped that Kassandra might join them in time for something to eat at midday, but there was no sign of her.

“She’s no doubt running round fetching herbs and clean sheets and Hera only knows what. So many little ones feeling ill, it’ll be chaos. Smelly, smelly chaos!” Cymone had made some light soup and fresh bread and was fussing around Savina, sending Phoibe for a blanket to drape around her shoulders as she ate.

Savina protested about the attention, but all the same she seemed grateful when one of the maids came in to inform them that a guest room had been made up for her. She was clearly well liked by the household staff, Phoibe decided, as they helped her into bed, her eyelids already drooping closed. The sheets were soft and scented with lavender, and fresh flowers stood on the tables at either side of the bed, along with fruit and watered wine.  It crossed her mind that Kyra should get back into bed with Savina. She looked equally exhausted. But before she could venture the suggestion Kyra had waved Phoibe to the door, smiling and insisting that she wanted to see the clothes they’d bought yesterday.

This was fun actually Phoibe decided, as they sat chatting about colours and styles. It would never have happened with Kassandra, that was for sure. To the best of Phoibe’s knowledge Kassandra had never even worn a himation, let alone familiarized herself with different ways to drape one, and had only ever covered her head for disguise or to keep the rain off.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to go shopping with you yesterday,” Kyra said later as they sat in the living room together. The sun was beginning to sink and Kassandra was still presumably acting as nurse and errand girl at the orphanage. “I would have enjoyed that.”

“Mmm, she made an effort but I think you’d have had more fun than Kassandra did,” Phoibe inched a little closer and tentatively rested her head against Kyra’s arm.

“No doubt.” Kyra seemed pleased by the contact and slipped an arm around Phoibe’s shoulders. “We'll go together the next time. Who knows? Perhaps our combined persuasive skills might be enough to coax Kassandra into a pretty chiton, what do you think?”

“I’ve never seen it,” Phoibe said thoughtfully. “But then Ife says that back in her country they have lizards bigger than men that live in the river, so stranger things, eh?”

Kyra laughed and hugged her closer. “I swear Phoibe, it’s not always like this you know,” she said at last. “Most of the time a few underweight loaves are a big controversy.”

“Sh-tuff happens,” Phoibe corrected herself just in time and gave Kyra an appraising look. “You must be exhausted. Why don’t you go to bed and rest?”

For a moment or two it looked as though Kyra was considering it, but then she shook her head and straightened up a bit. “No, I’d rather Kassandra didn’t come home from a hard day to find me lounging in bed.”

“Are you sure?” Phoibe narrowed her eyes. “Because I know Kassandra well enough to think she’d probably be really pleased if she came home and found you in bed.”

Just for a second she wondered if she’d gone a bit too far, but Kyra’s startled expression quickly melted into amusement and she ruffled Phoibe’s hair before giving her a swift kiss.

“I don’t know why I didn’t anticipate this, considering that you grew up under Kassandra’s aegis.”

“Don’t worry Archon, I also know how to behave in public.”

“I imagine you must have learned that from Selene, rather than the woman we both love?”

“Pretty much,” Phoibe conceded. “Seriously though Kyra, you should lie down in here and rest till she gets back. You look really tired, and we can’t have the Archon getting sick,” she wagged a playful finger. “I’m going to go to my room and write home about my new clothes. I’m going to leave out the whole thing about the orphans getting sick though.”

“Probably just as well,” Kyra agreed, reclining on the couch. “Your letters home would be deeply concerning if you included _all_ the details of what's happened since you arrived.”

“Mmm, I’ll do what Kassandra does.” Phoibe stopped at the door and gave her a cheeky grin. “Tell them about it when it's all over.”

“Well they do say that it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Kyra replied, her eyes already closed. “That sounds rather like a variant.”

Phoibe hadn’t heard that particular aphorism before, though she could think of a few occasions where she’d put it into practise. Later, she sat at her desk tapping the end of her pen against her teeth and considered what she’d discussed with Kassandra the previous evening. The idea of asking for forgiveness later was sorely tempting, but she’d made a real, serious promise not to interfere in the search for the poisoner. She thought back to the tracks of Kassandra’s tears shining in the moonlight. It would be nothing short of hypocritical to break a promise herself, so quickly after chastising Kassandra about not keeping her word.

There was nothing to stop her beginning to keep note of proceedings though, she decided. Pushing aside her letter, with its drawings of her new chiton, she pulled out a few sheets of the very nice papyrus that seemed to be standard issue in the villa, and began to write a neat list of all the things that had happened on the Islands, starting right back at the silo fires. Next to them she made a mark, indicating whether she thought it was simply bad luck, or something more sinister.

The room was getting dark by the time she’d finished her list and she had to light a lamp to examine it. The number of sinister occurrences was very short indeed. She was certain about the rolls being poisoned, but still in two minds about the nature of the silo fires. They’d been a nuisance, but in the end no one had suffered significantly. Far less grain had been damaged than might have been expected, and the efforts of the Adrestia’s crew had meant that the silos themselves were repaired very quickly.

She stretched wearily and rolled out her shoulders. It was time to go to bed. Kassandra still wasn’t back. Was she going to spend the night at the orphanage? She knew that Savina was getting better after all, and presumably Theis and Rhea would be glad of any help. 

As Phoibe washed and pulled on one of her fine new nightshirts, her eyes drifted back over to her list. She should put that away in the drawer. The household staff were presumably trustworthy, but she knew from personal experience that their tongues could wag innocently, it was how she’d found out about the rumours herself after all. The last thing they needed was the mysterious poisoner overhearing gossip about Phoibe's theories being exchanged at the market.

As she folded a sheet of papyrus to keep her notes together it suddenly occurred to her that there had been no way to predict that Kassandra would have volunteered the services of her crew to help rebuild the silos. And from what Phoibe had managed to winkle out of Cymone, the movement of grain from the damaged buildings had been an unplanned event. The fire could well have been expected to cause a lot more damage, it should have hit grain supplies more heavily. This was a case where  _ good _ luck had intervened. She pulled out her list, dipped her reed in the ink and altered the note from bad luck, to purposeful.

Lying in bed, feeling a little strange in her new nightshirt, Phoibe tossed and turned for a while, unable to settle. There was something niggling at her mind, preventing it from winding down for sleep. Something that she’d missed off the list. She tried to run through all the things she’d heard the maids talking about as they pummeled wet sheets.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the slow clop of hooves on stone, followed by low voices. Kassandra was back! 

Phoibe scrabbled out of bed and went to look out of the window. One of the stable hands had run up to greet her, and was standing with the reins in his hands, listening intently as she spoke. Kassandra was only just recognisable in the shadows, her head and her shoulders slumped, she looked as weary as Phoibe had ever seen her.

No wonder, she thought. She’d left with scarcely a mouthful of breakfast and no doubt hadn’t eaten all day. Seeing her turn towards the door Phoibe raised her hand and gave a tentative wave. Kassandra's head seemed to raise and she hesitated for a second, before dropping her chin and continuing inside. Phoibe felt wounded for a moment or two before shaking her head and shrugging. Kassandra was exhausted. Tomorrow would be soon enough to pester her with questions and bombard her with new theories. She would be cheered up to find Kyra, sleeping prettily on the couch in the main room, and would carry her off to bed no doubt. Phoibe was sure that both women were too tired to pay tribute to Aphrodite tonight, but they would at least be able to curl up in each other’s arms and exchange the details of their respective days.

As she inched back from the window she nudged the ink pot, catching it just in time to prevent an accident, and as she moved it to a safer position she remembered what was missing from her list. Those mysterious pictures! The ones she’d seen Nike pass to Praxos. The one Kassandra had roughly bundled into her pocket just the previous morning. The ones Cymone had said she really shouldn’t know about. She had no way of knowing if they were linked to this whole thing, not till she’d seen them. Dipping her pen once again she pulled out her list and added “Pictures ??” to the end.

Now  _ that _ sounded like something that would be safe enough for her to investigate, she decided, climbing back into bed and snuggling down under the covers. Kassandra didn’t want her tracking a poisoner, that was understandable enough. But she couldn’t object to her stalking an artist!

It had been Kassandra’s absence as much as anything that had kept her from sleep. Secure in the knowledge that she was back, Phoibe felt herself melting into the cosy bed, drifting off into sleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

How long she’d slumbered there she had no idea. Not long though, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. A barely human wail of anguish woke her with a start, her bowels instantly icy. The worst of it was that she recognised the terrible sound right away.

Back on Kephallonia a couple of years earlier, the carpenter’s youngest son had been horsing around on the cliffs with a group of friends and had dived from precisely the wrong place at precisely the wrong moment. Despite everyone’s best attempts to keep her away, his mother had managed to tear free of two sets of restraining hands and had raced, wild eyed down to the rocks to see her child’s body dragged from the waves, pale and staring, his skull smashed like an egg. 

Phoibe had been sitting up a tree, watching from a discreet distance. She hadn’t seen the corpse in any detail, but she didn’t need to. It couldn’t have been more horrifying than the cry his mother gave as she dragged her son from the men’s arms and cradled his ruined head against her breast. Later, as she’d made her way home Phoibe had suddenly had to bolt for a patch of bushes to vomit up her breakfast.  If she’d eaten recently she suspected that she’d have done the same now. A chill traveled down her legs, making them tremble even beneath the warm blankets. The mysterious poisoner was a murderer now. 

As she’d climbed the stairs, leaden footed, Kassandra had no idea how she was going to break the news. And now she had no idea how to try and comfort Kyra, all the usual platitudes would feel like ashes in her mouth. It was not all right. It was not going to be all right. There was nothing all right about any of this.

After giving voice to that ungodly cry, Kyra had collapsed at her feet. Kassandra sank to her knees beside her and hauled Kyra into her arms, feeling her nails clawing desperately at her back, hot tears scalding her neck.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” She crushed Kyra tight against her chest, as though the strength of her embrace might be enough to drive out the horror she’d just revealed. “So sorry, so very sorry.”

The door burst open without so much as a cursory knock and Orion barreled in, whimpering and cringing as he nuzzled against his mistress, licking frantically at her hands. 

“What in Hades has happened?” Praxos took hold of the big dog's collar and dragged him away. “Go, lie down, good boy,” he pointed to the couch and watched as he flopped down in front of it, his head nestled on his paws, big anxious eyes fixed on Kyra. 

Looking up and seeing Praxos’ expression flitting between anger and fearful curiosity, Kassandra’s heart sank at the thought of having to repeat the dreadful words over again. All the ride back she had gone over and over in her mind how best to say it, how to tell Kyra the terrible news, how to soften the blow, but there was no way.

“I’m so sorry my love. Nikos is dead.”

It was Kyra saying those awful words now, broken and sobbing, muffled against Kassandra’s shoulder.

“He’s dead. Nikos is dead.”

“Gods save us,” Praxos covered his face with his hands and heaved a huge sigh.

“I killed him,” Kyra looked up, face contorted with grief. “I told the baker to make those pastries. I told Melina to see that he ate some. I poisoned Savina. I sickened all those children. I killed Nikos.”

“Stop that now!” Praxos lowered his hands. His cheeks were wet, even as he scowled at her. “I don’t want to hear that sort of nonsense. This is none of your doing.”

“He’s right, love,” Kassandra took a softer approach, pulling Kyra back against her. “You are not responsible for this. I’m certain that someone tampered with those pastries. They saw an opportunity and took it. If it hadn’t been the rolls, it would have been something else.”

“What sort of evil bastard would try to poison children?” Praxos raged, distractedly patting at Kyra’s back.

“You just said it,” Kassandra looked up. “An evil bastard. I’m going to find them. And when I do I’m going to take whatever poison they used and I’m going to shove the rest of it down their wicked throat, then sit back and watch them die.”

“You’ll have to get there before I break their neck then,” Praxos muttered. “We should… I mean  _ you _ should get her to bed.”

It was a bit of a struggle, as Kyra was in no state to assist, but Kassandra managed to get her into a comfortable position to lift and with a hand from Praxos she got to her feet. Kyra was still mumbling under her breath, and Kassandra suspected that she knew what she was saying. Praxos opened the door and then hovered awkwardly as they made their way past him.

“Praxos?” Kassandra glanced back. “Come up with us would you? I need to make sure that Phoibe is all right. She has to have heard all this ruckus, she must be scared. But I don’t want to leave Kyra alone.”

“Of course, of course,” he nodded gratefully, lumbering up after them and following to the bedroom. 

This time it was Kassandra who tucked Kyra into bed. Kassandra who sat holding her and crooning platitudes as she sobbed. Fumbling in her pocket she produced a small vial with a wax seal and offered it to Praxos. “Mix three drops with some wine would you please?”

What is it?” he cracked the seal and sniffed suspiciously. 

“Milk of poppy,” she said stiffly. “Don’t look at me like that, Praxos. Rhea gave it to me for just this eventuality.”

For a moment she thought he was going to argue the point, but he glanced back at Kyra, then nodded and followed her instructions, filling the cup and giving it a stir before bringing it over to the bed and handing it to Kassandra.

“Drink this sweetheart, please.” She held it up to Kyra’s lips, again expecting protests, but Kyra looked blankly at her and opened her mouth without a word. “Good girl.” Kassandra wiped an errant drop from her lower lip with her thumb, and kissed her softly. “This is not all right, but we are going to battle through.” She rested their foreheads together. “I love you with all my heart Kyra, and I swear to you that I am going to find the person responsible for this.”

The drug seemed to be taking effect quickly. Stress, disturbed sleep and poor appetite had Kyra sinking back against the pillows within minutes.

“What will happen to his cat?” she whispered as her eyes drifted shut. 

“His...? Oh, I forgot to ask,” Kassandra humoured her, brushing Kyra's hair back from her forehead. “I’ll find out for you. Praxos is going to stay with you for a few minutes while I go and say goodnight to Phoibe.”

Kyra seemed to be asleep as Kassandra tiptoed out of the room and over to Phoibe’s door. Standing with her hand raised to knock she took a couple of deep breaths. Gods, she didn’t want to do this. She rested her head against the door and closed her eyes. A cold, wet nose at the back of her knee made her jump and she looked down into Orion’s concerned brown eyes. He nudged his wrinkled brow against her leg and she reached down to fondle his ear.

“When is all of this going to stop, eh boy?” She didn’t realise that she’d spoken aloud until she heard Phoibe calling her name.

“Hey there, little one, there’s someone here to see you.” Kassandra managed a smile as she opened the door and Orion shouldered his way past her, clambering onto the bed and snuggling up next to Phoibe.

Kassandra closed the door behind her and went to sit on the bed with them, running through potential opening lines in her head. But Phoibe spared her the torment.

“Someone died didn’t they? One of the orphans.” Her voice was controlled, but Kassandra could see her fingers trembling as she traced along the ridges of Orion’s worried brow.

“Yes Phoibe, they did. A little boy called Nikos.” She took Phoibe’s free hand in hers and rubbed her thumb slowly back and forth across her knuckles. “Rhea and Theis tried their best. They really did Phoibe, they tried so hard. But… he was weaker than the others. He just wasn’t…strong enough...” she stopped, biting hard at her lower lip to control its quiver.

“I’m sorry,” Phoibe turned her hand and squeezed Kassandra’s fingers. “Poor Kyra,” she added thoughtfully. “I bet she blames herself, no?”

Kassandra nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“You must have had an awful day,” Phoibe said quietly, shuffling upright and wrapping her arms around Kassandra’s neck. “I’m so sorry.”

She was the first person to comfort Kassandra, and her chest constricted painfully as she struggled to swallow around the sudden lump in her throat. Hugging Phoibe close she lowered her face and buried her nose in her hair, breathing in the warm scent of clean skin and lavender. She stretched her fingers wide, splaying them over Phoibe’s back to catch every motion of her breathing, every thump of her healthy young heart, desperate to rid her senses of the memory of Nikos’ slight, lifeless body in her arms.

_ When she had entered the orphanage she’d been assailed by the overwhelming scent of the sickroom, and beneath it, the much more pleasant hint of… chicken broth? Looking around she saw a number of the children sitting up, sipping at cups of the warm clear soup and she’d felt her spirits lift, a smile pulling at her lips. Then she’d met Theis’ eyes and hesitated, frowning quizzically.  _

_ Sensing a presence at her shoulder she’d turned to see Nike, a long apron wrapped around a plain, well worn chiton that Kassandra had never seen before. She’d never seen the expression she was wearing either. _

_ “Praise Aphrodite, you got here just in time.” She touched Kassandra’s arm softly and nodded to the far corner of the room. “He was asking for you. I was about to go and send someone to get you.” _

_ Kassandra followed Nike's indication and felt an icy chill settle around her heart. Curled up in the arms of the young wet nurse was Nikos, his pale face resting against her bare breast. He’d been stripped down to his loincloth, but as Kassandra approached, legs stiff and reluctant, she could see that he was still bathed in sweat, his thin ribs rising and falling unevenly with each painful breath. _

_ The wet nurse was singing to him, a tune Kassandra was unfamiliar with, but she caught words about reaching home after a long and difficult journey. She had never made a more difficult journey herself than the last few shaky steps to his bedside. As she reached them the young woman looked up and gave her a sad smile. _

_ “Nikos? Nikos, my little love, look who has come to see you.” His hair was plastered to his scalp with sweat and she stroked a couple of lank strands back from his brow. “Praise the gods you are here Misthios,” she shifted to sit him up a little. “We were afraid you wouldn’t make it.” _

_ “What do you mean, make it?” Kassandra knew full well what she meant but refused to hear it. _

_ The young woman gave her a sympathetic smile. “Will you sit with him?”  _

_ Kassandra gulped visibly and nodded. The nurse moved and they awkwardly shifted positions. Nikos weighed next to nothing in Kassandra’s arms as she settled back on his bed with him curled on her lap. The loss of the warm breast seemed to wake him and he whimpered, shifting uncomfortably in her embrace and looking up with huge, sunken eyes. _

_ “Kassandra?” His voice sounded even drier and raspier than normal. “You came. I knew you would.” _

_ “Of course I came, little man. I said last night that I would be back to see you in the morning. And you promised to get better for me, remember?” She put a gentle hand on his head and pressed it against her chest. “And you look much better.” She lied weakly. _

_ “I tried.” He licked his dry lips. “But I’m so tired.” _

_ “Then you go to sleep my young friend,” Kassandra whispered. “I don’t have anywhere else to be but here. I’ll sit with you.” His brow was furnace hot against her breast, but she could feel him shivering. “Are you cold, Nikos?” _

_ “Mmm,” he nodded. “I was hot before. But you’re nice and warm.” He snuggled weakly against her, clinging onto a fistful of her tunic. Kassandra’s mind was suddenly flooded with the image of Phoibe. Not as she was now, strong and healthy with far too much to say for herself. But the shivering, terrified little wretch she’d encountered in her meagre kitchen that evening all those years ago. Nikos didn’t smell as bad, but beneath the faint, warm scent of milk there was something else. Something she didn’t want to acknowledge. _

_ Nike appeared at the bedside, holding out a soft blanket. She helped wrap it around Nikos’ thin shoulders and watched as Kassandra made herself comfortable, and pulled the little boy snugly against her.  _

_ “Better, little man?” She smiled down at him. _

_ “Much,” he nodded. “I’m glad you came. I was scared I wouldn't get to say goodbye.” _

_ Kassandra’s eyes swam suddenly and she clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached with it, swallowing with difficulty until the urge passed and she could blink away the threatening tears. _

_ “Goodbye?” She tried to assume an affable tone, but could hear the thickness in her voice. “Why, where are you going?” _

_ “I’m not sure,” he mused quietly. “I hope that I’m going to see my mater and pater. I want to tell them about you. I want to tell them that Kassandra of Sparta is my friend.” _

_ She looked up, desperately seeking Rhea. She came over to the foot of the bed, looking sombre. “Please?!” Kassandra mouthed silently. “Isn’t there something?” Rhea didn’t even shake her head, her expression was grim confirmation enough. _

_ “I would be pleased if you did, Nikos.” Kassandra said huskily. “But I’m fairly sure that I’ll be meeting them first. I will be proud to tell them that Nikos of Mykonos was my friend.” _

_ They sat quietly for a few minutes, Kassandra resting her chin gently against his head, stroking his narrow back. After a while he said something, so quietly that she couldn’t make it out, and had to ask him to repeat himself. _

_ “I’m scared, Kassandra.” _

_ “Why, little one?” She stroked his wet hair.  _

_ “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know what happens next. They say dying is like falling asleep forever, and I’m so tired. Is that what’s happening? When my parents died it wasn’t like falling asleep. They were afraid.” _

_ “There’s no shame in being afraid, Nikos. Everyone is afraid at times.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling, fighting back the tears that were threatening to return. _

_ “Even you?” he tilted his head to look at her and she forced a smile. _

_ “Even me. I’ve been afraid many times. My friend Barnabas says that you can only truly be brave if you've been afraid.” _

_ “Of dying?” he ventured. _

_ “No one is dying today, Nikos.” She gave him a squeeze. “Not if I have anything to do with it. But yes. I’ve been afraid because I thought I was going to die.” _

_ “When you fought the bear?” His hand was cold now as he reached up and ran his fingers along the thick bands of scar tissue across her bicep. _

_ “Definitely when I fought the bear,” she nodded, feeling his fingers slide up to the knotted scars on her shoulder. “A lion gave me those,” she confided. “Not many people know that.” _

_ “You fought a lion?” His voice was so weak she had to bend her head right down to his to hear him. _

_ “Barely,” she laughed sadly. “He fought me, and he very nearly won.” _

_ “Were you scared?” _

_ “Terrified. Truthfully. I thought I was going to be eaten alive by that lion, all alone where no one would find me to give my remains a decent burial.” _

_ “What happened?” He was tracing the ropy cords of scar tissue with weakening fingers, and Kassandra could hear his breath becoming more and more raspy. _

_ “Someone came to help me,” she said quietly, resting her cheek against the top of his head. “Perhaps I prayed without knowing it. Perhaps the gods took pity on me. Perhaps I’d done some good things and they decided that I deserved another chance. The Archon came to save me,” she whispered. “She rode out to help me like Artemis herself, eyes flashing fury, bow drawn like the great hunter she is.” The touch against her shoulder was getting weaker and weaker. “Never give up hope, Nikos. Someone who loved me came to help me when I really needed them. This is your lion to fight, little one. And there are people here who love you. And we’re going to help you to -”  _

_ His hand slipped from her shoulder and fell limply against her hip. For a moment, for one faltering moment, she tried to convince herself that he had fallen asleep. But within moments she felt him becoming limp in her lap and heard the telltale rattle of the last breath leaving his lungs. _

_ “Rhea! Theis!” she barked, tilting his head back and patting his cheek. “Do something!” she stared up at them desperately as they came over and stood side by side looking down at her. “I’ve seen people brought back, even from the brink like this! Theis! That time the oarsman from Keos lost his leg to the shark. He wasn’t breathing but you saved him. You snatched him right out of the ferry!” She reached up and grabbed her hand. “Help him?! Please?” she hissed. _

_ “Gods, child,” Theis stroked her shoulder. “If I could, I would. You know that.” _

_ “Kassandra.” Rhea sat down on the bed beside her and put a gentle hand on her back, rubbing slow smooth circles. “Young Nikos here has been sitting in that ferry boat all night. He was just waiting to say goodbye to you.” _

Kassandra had not wept at the orphanage. She had not wept as she carried Nikos’ slight, lifeless body out of the sight of the other children. She had not wept as she ran errands for the healers. She had not wept as she escorted Nike back to the tavern later that evening, though she had come close to it when Nike had led her into the shadows and kissed her softly and chastely. She had not wept as she rode back to the villa, a boulder of ice sitting heavy in her belly. She hadn’t even wept as she’d broken the terrible news to Kyra and carried her to bed.

She wept now though as she crushed Phoibe to her chest. She wept for a young boy whose life had been stolen from him before it had really begun. She wept for the empty promises she’d made to those children. And she wept because for one dreadful, shameful moment as she’d looked down at Nikos’ corpse, she’d thanked the gods that it wasn’t Phoibe.

“It will be all right Kassandra,” Phoibe whispered against her shoulder. “He’s with his mater and pater now, no? They’ll be happy to see him again.” She heard her give a pained, shuddering sigh. “It feels shitty now, but you’ll find the man who did it, won’t you? And then -”

Kassandra sat back abruptly, holding Phoibe at arm’s length and fixing her with an intense look, unembarrassed by her tears for once.

“Last night,” she frowned. “You made me a promise Phoibe. Do you remember? You promised me that you wouldn’t go sneaking around looking for this poisoner. Things were serious enough when you made that promise. They’re far worse now. I need you to look me in the eye Phoibe and make that promise again. This person is a murderer. I need you to swear to me that you won’t try to creep around searching for them?”

Phoibe nodded solemnly and placed one hand over Kassandra’s heart, one over her own. 

“I swear.”

“Thank you.” Kassandra leaned forward to touch foreheads. “This was one of the worst days of my life Phoibe, and as I sat there with Nikos in my arms… I kept imagining…” she took Phoibe’s face in her hands and pressed a kiss to her brow. “My heart would break Phoibe if anything happened to you.”

Phoibe met her gaze and nodded slowly. “I know Kassandra. I really, truly promise. I’m not going to go looking for the poisoner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fishbone76 swept in at the last minute here and insisted on giving Nikos a death scene. I was going to hand wave it "off screen". I think she was right.


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe meets a small but varied cross section of Mykonos society.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rather than another addition to her "Hot Women Of Mykonos!" gallery, fishbone76 has gifted us with something utterly charming... with a hot woman in it :)

Phoibe slept late the next morning and when she woke it was with the dull, creeping sensation that something bad was going to happen. Gazing at the sun dappled ceiling and frowning she gave a groan as she realised that it already had. She covered her face with her hands and rubbed her eyes, as if the action could erase the terrible events of the previous day.

Nothing had changed though. The adults were gathered around the breakfast table in gloomy silence. The only one who actually looked at all rested was Savina, and she was red eyed and downcast. So was Cymone. Spotting Phoibe’s arrival she wiped her eyes and blew her nose before bustling over and wrapping her in a motherly hug.

“Good morning, my little dumpling.” She pressed a hard kiss to the top of her head. “Did you get some sleep?” She drew back and cradled Phoibe’s face in her hands, examining her carefully. 

“I’m well thank you.” Phoibe nodded as she was led over to the table.

“Sit yourself down, let’s get some breakfast inside you,” Cymone suggested, voice artificially bright. 

Pulling out her chair, Phoibe looked around the table at the sad faces and quietly wished them good morning. Before sitting down she had a second thought and made her way round the table, inching carefully past Cymone who was working at the stove.

“Kyra?” she ventured softly. When she turned to her, Phoibe could see past her brave attempt at a smile to her puffy, dark circled eyes. “I’m really, really sorry about that little boy,” she continued carefully. “I don’t know what else to say, except I’m sorry, and it's not your fault.” 

Kyra responded with actions rather than words, cradling Phoibe’s chin in one hand and stroking her thumb across her cheek, smiling sadly, before pulling her into a tight hug, resting her cheek against the top of Phoibe’s head and whispering “thank you.”

When she released her, Phoibe made an understated circuit of the table, dispensing hugs before sitting down just in time to greet the plate of fluffy eggs that Cymone had prepared. She wondered if it might be inappropriate to dive right in. After all, Kassandra of all people was simply pushing her largely untouched breakfast around her plate with a crust of bread. But life went on and Phoibe was hungry, her mouth watering at the smell.

Sitting beside her, Praxos seemed to recognise her hesitancy. “You tuck in little one,” he ruffled her hair with one big hand. “They look delicious. In fact, I wonder if I might have some too Cymone? Then I don’t steal Phoibe’s.”

Cymone smiled and began to crack more into a bowl, realizing what he was doing. A few minutes later, both he and Phoibe were ploughing through their eggs with gusto.

“Do you fancy a ride into town with me today? I’m going to pay a visit to the orphanage, but I thought that you might like to go and see your friends on the Adrestia?”

Phoibe nodded, swallowing her mouthful of food before replying. “Yes please Praxos. Is that all right Kassandra, if I go to see Barnabas and the others?”

Kassandra looked up and blinked a couple of times, as though she hadn’t really been following the conversation. “Of course it is,” she recovered herself. “They’ll be pleased to see you. Be careful though all right? Keep your eyes open and stay away from trouble.”

“I promise,” Phoibe nodded, pouring two cups of milk and pushing one hopefully towards Kassandra. She needed to eat something or she’d be grumpy later. Would they get another goat, she wondered, gulping down the frothy milk. Now was definitely not the time to ask, but perhaps she’d be allowed to go and help choose one.

Once breakfast had crawled to its conclusion Cymone declined Phoibe’s offer of help clearing the table. “You go and spend some time with your friends,” she patted her cheek. “Tell Barnabas that Cymone says hello and not to be a stranger.”

“I will,” Phoibe nodded, following Praxos to the door.

As she passed, Kassandra reached out and caught her hand. “Have a good time little one,” she drew her into a hug. “Remember your promise. And don’t feel guilty about having fun.” Phoibe felt her slipping something into her pocket, with less than her usual stealth, but politely pretended not to notice.

She’d thought they would walk as usual, but Praxos took her to the stables and introduced her to his big boned, shaggy hooved mount. “We’ll ride today,” he lifted Phoibe up to sit in front of him. “The children love him and they don’t see him that often, perhaps it will cheer them a little to feed him some carrots.” When they reached the fork in the road, where it split to go to the docks he swung her down carefully. “Have a nice day. If you get tired and want a ride home, you know where I am?”

Phoibe nodded politely even as she told herself that wasn’t happening. She would have to make herself known at the orphanage at some point, it was only polite. But not today. She watched Praxos ride away and then set off towards the docks. As she did, something weighty in her pocket bounced against her hip. It was a purse of coin, not an excessive amount, but more than enough to keep her fed and watered for the day. She retied it and tucked it away safely, feeling touched. Kassandra had never been grudging about sharing her coin with Phoibe when she had some to spare, but the fact that she’d thought to do so today of all days, brought a lump to her throat. She wiped her eyes brusquely with the back of her hand and trotted off to the Adrestia.

The crew were delighted to see her. Word had reached them of the death. Nothing much escaped Barnabas. He would make an even better spy than her, Phoibe thought as she sat on the rail of the helm beside him and Gelon.

“What a fucking shame,” she was helping Phoibe shell pomegranate seeds into a dish. “Poor little bugger. Breaks my fucking heart to see children suffer.”

“It can be a cruel world, and the gods are merciless in their choices at times,” Barnabas blew his nose and refilled their cups. “To his smooth journey across the Styx, and a joyful reunion with his parents,” he declaimed.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Gelon took a drink. “Things must be miserable as pity at your place now?” Phoibe was eating the seeds as quickly as she could supply them.

“Mmm, pretty much. Kassandra is sad, and Kyra is _really_ upset, and she was already upset on account of Savina being ill.”

“So I heard!” Barnabas shook his head. “I trust she’s getting better?”

“Much,” Phoibe nodded. “She was down at breakfast today. She slept most of yesterday, I think that helped.”

“I’ve missed my fucking chance to go and see if she needs anything then?” Gelon winked. “Like a nice shoulder massage, or some grapes peeling?”

“Gelon!” Barnabas looked scandalized. “Savina is a married woman!”

“I’m well aware of that, captain,” she laughed. “It doesn’t interfere with her being absolutely fucking gorgeous though, does it?”

“Oh you should have seen her the other day!” Phoibe was retrieving a couple of errant seeds from the folds of her tunic. “She had her hair down and everything, she looked lovely.”

“And _ everything _ eh?” Gelon gave a cheeky smirk.

“That will do!” Barnabas nudged her arm, sending a few more seeds tumbling to the deck. “Show some respect!”

“I maintain a courteous distance!” Gelon held up a defensive hand. “I’m not a fucking monster. But I can dream, can’t I? I don’t have much else to fill my lonely nights now my fucking quilt’s finished and I’ve no one to talk to of an evening. Oh Phoibe!” she brightened. “My fucking quilt’s finished! Come and have a look.” 

They left Barnabas at the helm, tutting and rolling his eyes, and spent a pleasant couple of hours in Gelon’s cabin, batting back and forth ideas for her next project. When Phoibe re-emerged into the bright sunlight she felt some of the weight of events had been lifted from her. She was peckish now. Breakfast had been less substantial than usual and pomegranate seeds were more for decoration than sustenance in her opinion.

Kassandra had sent her on her way with more than enough for a decent meal, but she had a feeling that Cymone might appreciate at least one member of the family… when had she started thinking _ that _ she wondered, hesitating in mid stride. It sounded right though, natural somehow. She shook her head and carried on. Cymone would like someone to turn up with a bit of an appetite for supper. She’d just get something to fill a corner.

The grilled chicken they’d eaten the other day had been delicious so she went off in search of more, only to discover that skewers of juicy boar meat were also available. Boar was a rarity on Kephallonia and delicious, so she opted for that instead. With the charred meat in one hand and a peach in the other, she went to find a suitable spot to eat. There was a likely looking low roof above a quiet stretch of the waterfront, so she tucked the fruit carefully in her pocket, gripped the skewer tightly between her teeth and shinned up one of the support posts.

The sun was blazing off the pale rocks as it had done every day since her arrival, but a friendly breeze was keeping the heat manageable. Perhaps that was why the streets were so busy. The fishermen had clearly decided to use their enforced shore leave to perform maintenance on their nets and vessels. Many were receiving a fresh lick of colour. By the time they returned to their trade Mykonos would have the smartest fishing fleet in the whole Aegean. 

The hulls weren’t the only brightly coloured things on display. Across the street a flower seller had set out her wares, more shapes and shades than Phoibe had encountered before. Perhaps she should buy some flowers for Kyra before returning later? Might that help cheer her up? Did she even like flowers? Kassandra had never shown any real interest in them, but Clio could be relied upon to get a little misty whenever Iva came back from market with flowers for her.

There was no better way than to try. At worst, she’d no doubt appreciate the thought. She licked the grease from her fingers and turned her attention to the peach, leaning back and taking in the whole scene. Everything was so pretty that it scarcely seemed believable that something so terrible had happened only the previous day. Like biting into an apple and finding half a maggot.

Someone else clearly appreciated the glorious aesthetics she noticed, shooting a quick look down at her peach just to reassure herself that it was uninhabited. A chubby man, face hidden by a broad brimmed hat, was sitting bent over a drawing board, glancing up every now and again before lowering his head and working industriously. He reminded her that she’d promised to draw some of the fish for Sophitia. Well fate had scuppered that plan for a while, but there was still plenty to inspire Phoibe here. Perhaps Sophitia would be interested in the fishing vessels. They were related to her business after all.

Her snack finished, Phoibe slid gracefully back down the support pole and decided to go and make herself known to a fellow artist. The hat was a good idea she supposed, as she ambled over, hands clasped behind her back. She never wore one personally but this one was doing a good job of shielding the man’s work from the blinding sun. Phoibe made no secret of her approach, not wanting to startle him. He heard her humming and glanced up, quickly shifting the papyrus on his drawing board and covering it with another.

“Hello little girl, may I help you?” He tilted his hat back so she could see his face more clearly. It was presumably a recent addition, because his nose and cheeks had caught the sun.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” She kept her distance for the time being, until she was sure of her welcome. Some people didn’t like you to watch them working. “I was interested to see what you were drawing. I like to draw too.”

“A fellow artist,” he dipped his head in acknowledgment and gave her a strange little smile. “How delightful. Yes, the docks here are a rich source of inspiration. The misfortune with the fish is bearing unexpected fruit. For the creatively inclined at least.” 

“May I see?” she inched a little closer.

“By all means.” He turned the board towards her. “The boats make a fascinating subject, out of their natural environment, don’t you think?”

“I was just thinking that,” she agreed, moving closer and examining his work. It was very good. He’d somehow managed to add a sense of depth to the whole scene. “That’s really clever how you’ve made that one look so far away, how did you do that?”

He looked simperingly pleased with her observation. “You have a good eye, young lady. It's all about perception.” He put down the board and got to his feet, coming to stand beside her and bending down till his head was level with hers. “Permit me?” he took hold of her shoulders. His fingers were understandably ink stained and he was wearing a perfume that she couldn’t identify, sort of floral, but not quite. 

“Now." He leaned in so close that she could feel his breath warm and moist against her ear. “Hold up your hand, palm outstretched.” She followed his instruction. “See how that green vessel nestles in your hand, like a toy? But you’re a clever young lady, no? You know that you can’t pick up that boat.” Just as his proximity was beginning to feel uncomfortable he took a deep breath, stood upright and stepped back. “Look around you everywhere, my dear. As an artist, you control reality. You can bend it to your will. You can make simple lines on parchment record time itself, things fleeting and hidden can be revealed by the stroke of your brush.” He flung out his arms.

“The further away things are, the smaller they appear.” Phoibe held out a hand, closed one eye, and balanced a distant pottery stall in her palm. “It’s obvious really. I know that when I’m hunting. Why did I never think of it when I’m drawing?”

“A hunter also?” He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “A young lady of many talents. I should like to see you hunt. To draw you in _action_.”

“Well,” Phoibe wasn’t sure about that. He was a little bit creepy if she was honest. “You’d have to have a word with Praxos about that. He doesn’t hunt for fun, it's all business.”

“Praxos?” He frowned. “Your pater?”

“My... uncle,” she settled. She was sure Praxos wouldn’t mind. “He’s very big… and protective!” That was true enough to make up for the accompanying lie.

The artist looked at her thoughtfully for a few moments, his moist, plump lips pursed. “I have an older brother myself.” He released her from his gaze and smiled brightly. “He is also very protective.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “It’s good to have someone to look after you, no?” He waited for her wary nod. “Though a little… oppressive at times also.”

“Well,” Phoibe clapped her hands with some finality. “I’ve disturbed you for long enough. Thank you for the tip about drawing things smaller. That’s really clever.”

He gave her a theatrical bow. “Draw what you see young lady. But remember to look beneath the surface.”

“...right…” She nodded. “I’ll remember that.” As she spoke a gust of wind caught the top sheet of papyrus and sent it dancing away along the dockside. “It’s all right, I’ve got it!” She chased after it, hearing his dismayed squeal. It was thick, good quality papyrus, too heavy to fly far. “It’s fine, no damage.” Phoibe blew a bit of dust from the surface as she returned it to him. As she did so her eye caught the picture that had been below this one. He’d been drawing the flower seller.

“Oh… so _that’s_ what you meant by seeing below the surface?” She frowned, disgusted. 

He followed her glance and picked up the board, picture and all, giggling suggestively. “An artist must be beyond the petty conventions of society, my dear. And we are all naked beneath our clothes, are we not?”

Phoibe had no issue at all with people being naked. Growing up with her, Kassandra sometimes seemed to spend more time naked than clothed. And there was nothing wrong at all with making art of naked people. With their permission. Phoibe was sure that the flower seller had no idea what he’d been doing. She took a wary step back.

“I know that _ I _ am,” he pursed his lips again. “And I’m sure you are. Why Artemis herself, beneath that modest tunic.” He waved a hand in the direction of the stone colossus.

It was definitely time to be on her way she decided, backing up another couple of steps. As she did so an ear piercing whistle split the air, making them both jump.

“Ah... I must be going,” he began to scrabble around, gathering up his materials and shoving them untidily into the leather satchel he’d had propped by his feet as he drew.

“Brother! Here! Now!” She turned and saw a slender man standing in the shadow of a building across the street. Despite the heat of the day he had a dark woolen cloak wrapped about him, drawn up over his head. Phoibe decided he was a tall man, stooping for some reason. Not age. His voice didn’t sound old. “Move it you slovenly half wit!” He snapped his fingers.

“So that’s your protective brother?” she grimaced.

“The one and the same.” He hitched his bag over his shoulder and tucked the board tightly beneath his arm. “In one of his more… oppressive moods. I shall see you again, my little artist, Perhaps you’ll allow me to see some of your work? Return the favour as it were?”

“Perhaps,” she nodded. He wouldn’t be seeing her again, not if she saw him first. She’d been warned about people like this by almost every adult in her life at one time or another, but this was the first time she’d truly realised what they were talking about.

“Move your lazy self! I do not have all day to stand around here waiting on your predilections. And what have I told you about _ that _?” As his brother approached he received a clip round the ear and an angry, whispered conversation ensued, with furious hand gestures in Phoibe's direction. 

She was about to retreat to the roof and put some distance between them when she spotted a familiar figure approaching.

“Nike!” Phoibe yelled, suddenly relieved. Running over she barely managed to prevent herself from reaching up for a hug.

“Hello, my dear.” Nike had clearly been crying, but had made an effort to conceal it, and Phoibe was reminded of recent events for the first time in a while. “You look… shaken?” She tilted her head, and touched Phoibe’s cheek gently. “Has something happened?”

“I… no... not really,” she shook her head.

“Phoibe?” Nike frowned. “Friends don’t lie to each other, and I’d like us to be friends.”

“Sorry. There was just… I went over to look at what this man on the dock was drawing and he turned out to be a bit… weird?” she settled.

Nike looked puzzled for just a fraction of a second and then realization dawned. “Where is he?” She straightened up, looking like she was spoiling for a fight, and perhaps she was, Phoibe thought. The business at the orphanage must have upset her too. Kassandra often felt better for hitting something, perhaps Nike was the same? 

“He’s just -” She turned back, arm outstretched. “Oh!” Both men had vanished. “He was just over there and then his brother called him over, he was sort of mean to him, but… they’re gone.”

“I see,” Nike took her hand. “If you see him again, point him out. Listen Phoibe,” she glanced down, face serious. “You can recognize a hetaera, no?”

“Pretty much,” she nodded, puzzled by the apparent change of direction. 

“For future reference, I know every working woman on this island.” Nike squeezed her hand. “If you meet anyone like that man again, look out for one of my trade sisters, or a guard. Or come to the tavern, I live above it. He must be some visitor.” She looked around. “We’d know if he was an Islander. Word travels. Do you like walnuts, Phoibe?” She changed tack abruptly.

“I love them,” Phoibe nodded, wondering where this was going.

“Good, so do I.” Nike raised her other hand. There was a heavy looking bag in it. “Do you have time to sit and eat some with me? Tell me how you’re settling in?”

An hour later they were sitting side by side at the waterfront, swinging their feet and watching a flotilla of walnut shell boats as they bobbed briefly on the surface before one by one taking on water and sinking below the ripples.

“I wonder if those little crabs will use them?” Phoibe was prying the nuts apart with the small knife she kept tucked into the straps of her sandal. “The ones that move from shell to shell?”

“I know the ones you mean.” Nike accepted another handful and began to pry out the sweet flesh. “Perhaps very tiny ones might.”

“These are so good,” Phoibe grunted appreciatively. “We had some the other night and they were just as good, really fresh.”

“We grow them here.” Nike launched another empty shell. “These were probably beaten from the tree just yesterday.”

They sat quietly for a while. A curious gull swooped to scoop up a bobbing shell before dropping it again with a disgusted squawk on finding it empty.

“Do you like flowers, Nike?”

“Hmm?” She looked down, puzzled. “I like some flowers, sometimes. Are you asking if I like to be _ given _ flowers?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Phoibe kicked her heels against the wood work for a second before remembering that her sandals were new and stopping quickly. “I was going to buy some to take back for Kyra to try and cheer her up a bit. But I don’t know if she’d even like them.”

Nike was quietly thoughtful for a while, eating another walnut as she looked out at the horizon. “Well, I don’t know, obviously, but I imagine she would like to receive a bunch of flowers from _you_. The gesture would be appreciated I’m sure. But your handsome... sister? guardian?… what do you refer to her as?” she frowned.

“Kassandra mostly,” Phoibe shrugged.

“Very well,” Nike chuckled. “Your handsome Kassandra, she would be the one to ask, surely?”

“But you’re her friend, has she never mentioned that she’s going to get Kyra some flowers?”

“Truth be told Phoibe, whilst we are friends, Kassandra and I do not meet for private drinks. That is always a trio activity. And while we are drinking with Praxos, the topic of her personal life with the lovely Archon is understandably limited to less romantic discussion.”

Phoibe rolled her eyes wearily and sighed. “People would talk I suppose?”

“They _ do _ love to talk,” Nike gave her a playful nudge. “Absolutely adore it, in fact. And the gorgeous, monster hunting misthios is an irresistible topic. Your sister _ is _ rather delicious, I suppose you’re aware of that?” she winked.

“I suppose so.” Phoibe chewed thoughtfully. “Women certainly seem to like her.”

Nike laughed delightedly, holding out her hand for more walnuts. “Oh there are quite a few men who get a bit hot and bothered by her. But it's been established that her tastes do not run in that direction, and none of them have been foolish enough to attempt to educate her palate.”

“Just as well.” Phoibe drew back her arm and sent an empty shell winging out over the water. “A man in Sami touched her ass once and -”

“I’m not sure I want to hear the dramatic conclusion to this tale!” Nike grimaced playfully.

“Oh she didn’t break _all_ his fingers. Just two and a thumb.”

“Very reasonable.”

“Well he _did_ ask for it,” Phoibe shrugged. “You don’t just go round touching people’s asses without permission. I mean, Kassandra doesn’t… as far as I know anyway,” she frowned.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Nike nodded sagely. “She’s always been very courteous with me.”

“See?” Phoibe threw out a hand in a gesture reminiscent of Markos. “And you’d think she’d really like you. Well I mean I know she likes you, but _ like _ like I mean.”

“I know precisely what you mean,” Nike sounded amused. “But she is deeply and profoundly in love with our beautiful Archon. Anyone can see it.”

“Mmm, I know. I’ve never seen her like this before. But I just said that because… well, has anyone ever told you that you really look like Kyra? The Archon I mean?”

Nike stopped with a fragment of walnut halfway to her mouth and considered her response carefully. “Not since I started to grey at the temples a little,” she laughed. “Which is a pity. Now that you mention it, that could be useful in my line of work." She sounded casual enough to convince Phoibe.

“I suppose so.” She sucked a bit of walnut from between her teeth. “Can I ask you something?”

“I think we’ve established that you can,” Nike’s laugh was genuine. “Don’t stop now.”

“Do you like Praxos?” Phoibe arched a quizzical brow.

“Very much as a friend, but you mean do I like him romantically? Do I find him sexually attractive?” Nike pursed her lips thoughtfully.

Phoibe gave a sigh of relief and leaned back on her hands, delighted to meet someone matter of fact and seemingly unflappable at last.

“Well he’s a rather handsome fellow if your tastes run to the big and burly,” Nike considered.

“Yours don’t?”

“Not especially, though that makes me sound shallow doesn’t it?” she winced. “He’s been a very good friend to me over the years, he’s kind and loyal and has the heart of a lion.”

“That’s exactly what he said about you!” Phoibe grinned delightedly.

“Then he’s clearly observant and insightful as well,” Nike smirked. “I didn’t realise that. We go back a long way. A longer way than I care to admit really. He’s more like family than anything.”

“I see,” Phoibe nodded. “I just wondered.”

“You’re not the only one, but you’ve done it more politely than the majority of people. Did you ask him the same question?” She laughed delightedly at Phoibe’s cautious nod. “Ah gods. I wish I could have been standing behind a tree to hear that. I’m going to guess that he’s not secretly yearning for me?”

“Nope, I’m afraid not. Though actually that’s just as well I suppose.”

“Indeed! It would be tragically romantic and no one wants that,” Nike glanced up at the sun. “Clearly my search for love is destined to go on,” she patted Phoibe’s cheek. “I wish I could stay here for the rest of the day, chatting with you, my sweet,” she gave her a smile that made Phoibe’s ears feel a bit warm. “It’s certainly cheered me up immensely after the recent grim events.”

“Nike?” Phoibe interrupted and waited for her look of quizzical expectancy. “Do you think there’s something weird going on?”

“Weird?” Nike tilted her head.

“Do you think the gods are angry with the Archon?” she asked warily and was relieved at Nike’s derisive snort.

“Gods no!” she shook her head. “That’s some nonsense that someone is bandying about to try and distract from the fact that they’re looking to depose the Archon.” Nike brushed the crumbs from her skirts into the water. “I perhaps shouldn’t have said that to you,” she frowned. “But you’re a smart girl, you can see what’s going on, no?” She got to her feet with impressive elegance given that they were sitting on the dockside.

Phoibe scrabbled up a good deal less elegantly and handed over the heavily depleted bag of walnuts.

“What I will say Phoibe, is this.” Nike crouched down to face her. “I know you’re clever, and I’m going to assume you’re brave and good hearted because you’ve had good examples. I imagine that you very much want to help? But yesterday someone killed an innocent little boy. And it was just luck that they didn’t kill more. Whoever did that is a callous murderer with no respect for basic human decency. Keep your distance from this? Please? A lot of people would be heartbroken if anything happened to you. I’m one of them.” Nike leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Now, sadly, I must ready myself for work,” she stood up and smiled. “Don’t forget to get those flowers for the Archon. I think it will help cheer her up.”

Phoibe watched Nike stroll away, nodding a greeting as she passed a couple of townsfolk. She was right about the poison, she thought, kicking at the gravel and chewing her lip thoughtfully. For all the poisoner knew, half the children in the orphanage could have had underlying weaknesses. They clearly didn’t care who got sick or indeed who died. It would definitely be best to leave this to Kassandra and Praxos. She would find a way to help that kept her safely out of harm’s way.

Something bright in the dust caught her eye and she ambled over to investigate. It was a thick stick of compressed pigment. Dark red. She rubbed it against her thumb, thrilling at how smooth and opaque it was. It was expensive. No doubt it had dropped from the weird man’s bag when he’d been scrabbling to get to his sharp-tongued brother. Phoibe tossed it high into the air and caught it again, smiling to herself. Finders keepers, she decided without an iota of guilt. It served him right for being creepy.

The sun was beginning to descend, it was time to be heading back... home. But first she needed to go and buy some flowers for Kyra.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn Phoibe's views on capital punishment, sort of.

Phoibe took Nike’s advice, spending some time in conversation with the flower seller. She turned out to be a perfectly pleasant young woman who, perhaps unsurprisingly, was acquainted with Kassandra. She helped Phoibe choose a selection of appropriate blooms, arranging them into an attractive bouquet for her and binding them with a piece of twine. She definitely did not deserve the dirty minded attentions of the dock side artist, Phoibe thought as she thanked her and went on her way.

Thinking about him reminded her of the previous night’s decision. He was an artist. He should definitely go on her list of suspects. It was a pity she hadn’t thought to charm his name out of him. Or where he lived. Or any details at all really, she sighed. He was creepy, that was for sure, but that didn’t necessarily make him guilty of… Of what exactly? She didn’t even know yet. 

She had two tasks to complete, she decided, ambling back towards the villa, the flowers nestled in the crook of one arm. She needed to work out how many potential suspects were on the island, or islands, she supposed. As well as artists who sold their work, there would be others in the pottery workshops, the dressmaker’s, the stonemasons, the list could be quite long in a place like this.  But she also needed to find out what exactly they were suspected of! She needed to get a look at those mysterious papers. Hopefully they would still be in the desk in Kyra’s office. If her visit for ink had been anything to go by, then getting into the office was a piece of cake. She just needed to make sure she would be undisturbed there for the duration of her search.

She’d spent rather longer about her business than she’d intended or even realised, and the sun was sinking as she approached the villa. While she was still some way off she spotted the unmistakable figure of Praxos striding along the road towards her. He seemed extremely pleased to see her.

“Thank the gods little one,” he ruffled her hair. “We were beginning to get concerned. I thought that perhaps you had gone to the orphanage to look for me. What lovely flowers! Are they for me?” he gave her a broad wink.

“No!” she laughed. “Do you like flowers?”

“I think I’d like it if someone gave me some,” he replied thoughtfully.

“Oh right, good to know.” Phoibe locked that away for future reference. “I’m sorry people were worrying. I didn’t realise how long I’d been out. I met,” she decided to edit the artist out of her run through of her activities. Nike had been angry enough, she didn’t want to see Praxos’ reaction right now. “I met Nike, and, well she had some walnuts,” she said, as though that explained everything. 

Judging by Praxos' delighted laughter it seemed to. “Aye, they’re delicious right now, aren’t they? I saw her myself this morning at the orphanage,” he became more solemn. “She was helping her mother and Theis. It's been an awful time for everyone. I bet it cheered her up spending some time with you though.”

“She’s really nice, I like her,” Phoibe sniffed the blooms. “Then I thought I’d get Kyra some flowers to try and cheer her up. But now I think maybe that’s a bit silly, no?” She looked up at him and he cocked his head, puzzled. “I mean. Well, a little boy died! A bunch of flowers isn’t going to make that right, is it?” she looked at them despondently.

Praxos put a gentle hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to stop for a moment, and crouched down to look in her eyes. “The flowers won’t, no,” he agreed. “But that’s not why you got them is it? You wanted her to know that you were thinking about her. That you recognised that she’s hurt and you wanted to tell her how sorry you are. That  _ will _ help. A lot.” He cradled her cheek. “Now!” he got to his feet, clapping his hands. “I didn’t bring my horse, but will my shoulders do instead?”

The remainder of the walk back to the villa was a jaunty affair, Phoibe bouncing happily on Praxos’ shoulders, teasing a blossom from the bunch to tuck behind his ear. Anyone watching might have considered the mood inappropriate he supposed, given that he’d spent the morning clearing out a store room at the orphanage so that Melina and Nike might wash Nikos’ body and prepare him for his prothesis the next day.

But to Tartarus with that way of thinking. The dead child’s needs were being attended to. He’d been bathed and anointed. Dressed in a new tunic. Nike had slipped a coin into his mouth before closing his lips. His fare was paid. No one could do any more for him now, till the time came to bury him beside his parents.

Phoibe was still alive. There was no reason for the living child to be swallowed by the misery surrounding the dead one. So they sang as they returned to the villa. 

Kassandra and Kyra were very much of the same opinion. In fact, the three of them had been talking about it just before Praxos had set out to look for Phoibe. It was one thing to talk about it, and quite another to actually do it of course. He’d been right about the flowers though, he observed, watching Kyra’s delighted reaction when Phoibe handed them over.

“Bet you wish  _ you’d _ given her flowers now and again eh?” He gave Kassandra a playful nudge, as Kyra hugged Phoibe and expressed her thanks.

“You never mentioned that you liked flowers.” She was whittling the shape of a small bear from a large carrot, nibbling at the off cuts. Praxos' nudge had made her slice off a paw.

“You never asked.” Kyra looked for a vase.

“Goes without saying, doesn’t it?” Praxos was stirring the stew that Cymone had left warming for them, sniffing hugely. “Even if people don’t actually like flowers, they like being given them.” He blew on a steaming spoonful before tasting carefully and adding a little pepper. “I’d have thought the Aegean’s greatest lover would have known that.”

“Have you  _ ever _ given flowers to a girlfriend?” Phoibe was setting out the bowls on the table. It occurred to her just as the words tumbled out of her mouth that perhaps, right now, in Kyra’s presence wasn’t the best time to be asking. She shot an apologetic glance over to where she was arranging the flowers. Kassandra pointedly avoided replying and concentrated instead on biting the head off her half formed carrot sculpture.

“She did give me a skinning knife.” Kyra decided not to dwell on the details of Kassandra’s previous courtships. 

“Very romantic!” Praxos snorted, placing the pan on the table and ladling out stew.

“It was actually,” Kyra placed the vase in the centre of the table, smiling contentedly. “She gave it to me under very romantic circumstances, and I still use it.”

“Romantic?” Phoibe was hacking the bread into rough chunks. “A knife?”

“Knives have featured heavily in our romance.” Kassandra smirked as she pulled out Kyra’s chair for her.

“I don’t want any more details.” Praxos sat down and bent over his bowl.

“You did start it though, really,” Phoibe pointed out. “Excellent stew, by the way.” She slurped appreciatively.

“I only heated it up,” he chuckled, crumbling a piece of bread into his bowl.

“Excellent heating up then,” she nudged his arm.

There was a period of relative quiet as everyone ate. It allowed the former melancholy to creep back up on them, something Kassandra recognised when Phoibe declined a second serving of stew.

“Are you all right, little one? Did you eat while you were out today?”

“A bit mmm,” she nodded, picking a small piece of bread into crumbs. “I’m just not all that hungry.”

“Did you eat so many walnuts?” Praxos asked kindly, earning a little giggle in response.

“I did eat quite a lot,” she conceded. “I bet Nike is sorry she offered to share them with me now.”

“Oh, I think she’ll feel that it was a small price to pay for your company. She had a dismal morning.”

“I… ” Phoibe began and then looked up uncertainly.

“Go on?” he patted her hand.

“Can I ask a question?” she sounded genuinely unsure. “About… about what happens now?”

“What happens now?” Kassandra was puzzled. “In what way?”

“About. About that little boy?”

“Oh!” Kassandra cast a hesitant glance at Kyra. “Perhaps we should talk about that later, when I’m tucking -”

“No,” Kyra put down her spoon and leaned on the table, steepling her fingers. “We should talk about it now. It's not a secret. I imagine funerals might be different here than on Kephallonia, I don’t know? At any rate, I hope Phoibe hasn’t had to attend many. You’ve every right to be curious. What would you like to know, sweetheart?”

“I’ve never been to one.” Phoibe was rubbing a pinch of breadcrumbs into a crumbly ball. “Except my mater and pater and I think that was different because they’d been lying out for a long while when Kassandra found them. So it was all a bit quick.”

Kyra’s face fell and she lowered her hands, reaching across the table to take Phoibe’s fingers.

“Who’s going to bury him?” she looked up, puzzled and concerned. “He doesn’t,  _ didn’t _ have any parents. What happens to him?”

Kyra took a sip of water and licked her lips. “Melina will look after him,” her voice sounded slightly husky. “She will have washed and dressed him today, probably with one of the other women from the orphanage.”

“Nike came over.” Praxos helped himself to another ladle of stew, dropped it into his bowl and eyed it without much enthusiasm. “We cleared that bigger store room, put him in there. They’ve bathed him and dressed him. He's all ready for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Phoibe glanced over to him then back to Kyra. “He gets buried tomorrow?”

“No, tomorrow he lies at the orphanage,” Kyra sighed. “And his friends mourn him. In the absence of his family, Melina will grieve him.” Kassandra gave a barely audible grunt at this, but Kyra continued. “Anyone who wants to go and pay their respects may do. Then the following morning, before dawn, we’ll bury him alongside his parents. Then there will be a feast to thank everyone for seeing him safely on his way.”

“I didn’t really know him,” Phoibe’s hesitancy posed the question for her.

“You don’t need to go,” Kassandra pushed aside her bowl with some finality, and poured wine.

“No,” Kyra shook her head, glancing uncertainly at Kassandra as she drained her cup and refilled it immediately. “Definitely not, unless you wished to of course. Kassandra and I will go and pay our respects first thing. Then the rest of the day will be quiet here. I’ve given everyone the day off so they can mourn in their own fashion.”

“Hence the stew,” Praxos gave a humourless smile.

“I like stew,” Phoibe looked over at Kassandra. She was peering broodily into her second cup of wine. “Just… I’m not so hungry right now.”

“Oh I like stew, don’t get me wrong,” Praxos back pedaled. “But you can’t deny it's a useful meal to cover for when the cook isn’t here. If you’d like to, you could come for a ride out with me in the morning while these two are away? I wasn’t going to hunt, just get a bit of fresh air.”

Ordinarily Phoibe would have leapt at the offer, but there was an idea brewing in the back of her mind. At first glance it might seem a little tasteless she suspected, but she had the best of intentions. That had to count for something surely?  “I thought I’d write my letters home if that’s all right? I started the other evening but I was too tired to get far.”

“Oh, right,” he seemed thoughtful. “Would you like me to stay with you till they get back? So you’re not on your own?”

“Thank you,” Phoibe shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just be in my room all morning, writing and drawing. You go have a ride out. I’ll send your love, shall I Kassandra?” The nod of agreement she received was a little curt, but Phoibe was too busy plotting to really care.

Her plan had been to make her foray into the office while everyone was away attending the prothesis. But as she lay in bed that night, hands behind her head, watching the shadows of the tree branches dancing on the ceiling, it occurred to her that there was no need to wait that long. She was too wired by her idea to be in danger of falling asleep any time soon. All that was required was a little patience. And a flint. 

Orion grumbled drowsily as she climbed out of bed and went over to the lamp by the window. Fumbling around in the dim moonlight she found the tinder stone. Her bed-mate raised his head as she pulled out the chair and sat at her desk to wait.

“Go back to sleep, there’s a good boy,” she hissed. “I can do this by myself. You guard the bed. Bed!”

He seemed only too willing to follow this particular instruction, flopping back against the pillow with a huge sigh. Phoibe leaned back in the chair and looked out of the window. Thin clouds were drifting lazily across the moon, and she considered lighting the lamp for a moment and starting her list of suspects while she waited.

She was waiting for Kassandra and Kyra to go to bed. So far, they’d generally gone to their room not long after Phoibe had been tucked in and she’d assumed they’d do the same tonight. But while Kassandra had been saying goodnight, shaking her head in amused disbelief as Orion snuggled under the blankets next to Phoibe, she’d heard no indication that Kyra had followed her upstairs.

If Kyra wasn’t in bed, it was unlikely that Kassandra would be there of course. Perhaps they were sitting in the main room discussing arrangements for tomorrow. Phoibe knew Kassandra’s body language intimately enough that she was certain she wasn’t looking forward to this curious business of public mourning that Kyra had spoken of. And no wonder, Phoibe thought, nipping at a hangnail. Ostentatious emotion made Kassandra uncomfortable at the best of times. Weeping and wailing would make her skin crawl. She would be in a mood when she returned.

All the more reason to get this safely out of the way while she was lying in Aphrodite’s bower with Kyra. Now if they’d just hurry up and get to bed. Phoibe padded over to the door and opened it the barest crack, wedging it there with a sandal. She didn’t want them to creep upstairs without her noticing, while she was lost in thought. No sooner had she done this than she heard the sounds of activity from the direction of the stairs.

“...tomorrow, but of course plans are all out of the window now.” Kyra was saying. Phoibe glanced at the floor, checking that no light was escaping from her room to betray her presence. Just to be on the safe side she tripped lightly over to the window and closed the shutters. The room was dark now and she had to take considerably more care returning to her position by the door. Just in time. They were at the head of the stairs now. As Phoibe had expected, Kassandra had an affectionate arm about Kyra’s shoulders. It sounded like they were continuing the same conversation.

“...I was going to start investigating,” Kassandra pressed a brief kiss to the top of Kyra’s head. “That was before all this. But, honestly, I think I still should.”

“Oh, surely not Kassandra!” They were by their bedroom door now and Phoibe expected them to go straight inside, but Kyra had turned and halted Kassandra with a hand on her chest. There was a definite plea in her voice, but she sounded disapproving too.

“I understand,” Kassandra placed her hand over Kyra’s. “But, I just have this feeling. I’m not saying that they’re the same person, but I’m sure they’re linked, working together. It would be too much of a coincidence for the two things to be completely independent of each other. I have this… just this feeling that they might be hanging around tomorrow, gloating over their handiwork.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Kyra dropped her gaze to their joined hands. “And I know I shouldn’t ask, but. It's going to be such an awful day. It's selfish of me, I know that, but, _please_ Kassandra?”

She sounded so desperate that Phoibe herself felt moved, she could only imagine how it was making Kassandra feel. It seemed that the answer was “persuaded”. Phoibe watched as she took Kyra in her arms and bowed to kiss her. This was excellent. She nodded in satisfaction as Kyra’s arms wound around Kassandra’s neck and the kiss deepened. Just what she’d hoped for.

All right, all right, she thought a couple of minutes later, tapping her bare foot impatiently. Take her to bed now! Don’t do it right out here in the hallway! For an instant she wondered if she’d inadvertently spoken out loud, jerking back from the crack in her door as Kassandra raised her head and glanced down the corridor.

“It’s getting a little chilly here, eh?” she stroked Kyra’s cheek. “Let’s go to bed, love.”

And not before time, Phoibe rolled her eyes, leaning back against the wall to calm her breathing. Just give them a few more minutes to let Kassandra get into her stride and Phoibe would have the run of the villa. 

Once they’d closed the door behind them Phoibe opened her own to permit a little light to enter from the hallway. She swapped her nightshirt for an older one with pockets and tucked the tinder away securely, before making her way back across the room, cautious in the dim light. She peeped cautiously around the open door. All was quiet and the corridor was deserted now. As she stepped out she heard a snuffle from the bed behind her.

“Wait here boy,” she glanced back over her shoulder and saw Orion’s great shadowy head raised from the pillow to investigate. “Wait for me Orion. Wait!” As she’d hoped he flopped back down only too willingly and she closed the door behind herself as she stepped out, just to be on the safe side. It wouldn’t do to have him go and scratch on his mistress’ door while Phoibe was up to her elbows in Kyra’s desk.

Padding cat-like down the corridor, the tile chill beneath her bare feet, she paused outside Kassandra’s room and listened hard for a moment. It sounded like things were progressing nicely. Squaring her shoulders she walked to the head of the stairs and again stopped to listen intently.

She hadn’t got the impression that Praxos was much of a one for wandering the villa at night, but you never knew. He wasn’t likely to be particularly stealthy about it though. She hadn’t been into his room, but she knew it was down among the store rooms in the cool basement. She’d been down there with Cymone to collect onions and turnips and knew there was a decent flight of steps and two doors between them. So long as she didn’t knock anything over, she should be safe.

At the foot of the stairs she halted, heart in mouth. The main doors to the villa were closed and barred, but through the slender gap between them she could see the yellow light of a lantern. The guards! She’d forgotten all about the guards. They didn’t come into the villa at night, she knew that from a conversation with Leto.

“Not once Kassandra moved in,” she’d laughingly ruffled Phoibe’s hair. “Seems the two of them prefer a little privacy of an evening,” she’d winked. “And let’s face it. We patrol the grounds throughout the night. No one’s getting past us. And imagine if they did? Getting past us, only to walk right into the two deadliest fighters on the Silver Islands! I'd almost like to see it.”

No, they wouldn’t be coming in, unless she made some unusual noise, or? She gave a disgruntled little huff. Unless they saw a light where there shouldn’t be one at this time of night. Like in the Archon’s office! There were wide doors onto the terrace. They probably had a tell tale crack between them, just like the main doors. She would have to be more cautious than she’d anticipated.

As she stood, licking her lips in nervous excitement there was low laughter outside the door and the lamplight moved away. Was that good or bad? They could be patrolling past the office now. She should have made a study of their routes, she chided herself. But she was halfway there now. If there was no way to safely illuminate the office once she was inside, she could always take the papers up to her room, examine them there and immediately replace them. It was fine.

She tiptoed along to the office door and with a final look over her shoulder, ears prickling for any unexpected sound, she took hold of the door handle and turned it. Or she tried to. She’d fully expected it to be open. Perhaps it was just uncooperative. She gave it a bit more oomph. Completely immobile.

“Bugger!” she grumbled resting her head against the door. Why hadn’t she thought of this possibility? Presumably it was just left unsecured during the day when people were in and out all the time. There’d been no one in when she’d gone to look for ink, but sure enough Aegeus had come marching in not ten minutes later as though he’d been working in there. She gave the foot of the door a tiny little kick. Just a token offering.

Perhaps she shouldn’t despair though? The locks on the desk were unimpressive, at least to someone who’d made a bit of a habit of poking around in places where she hadn’t strictly been invited. Possibly the door was similarly unspectacular. She took a step back and bent to examine it. No such luck. The door itself was sturdy and well fitted and the lock was an excellent partner for it. Phoibe certainly couldn’t pry it open and doubted that even Kassandra could pick it.

“Phoibe!”

The exclamation of her name made her jump, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned sharply, a shaky hand clasped to her chest. “God’s teeth Kassandra, you nearly scared me to death.” That had perhaps been an inappropriate response she thought, a few seconds too late, but Kassandra seemed unperturbed by it.

She came down the stairs with her usual easy swagger, wearing a different tunic than the one she’d had on when she entered the bedroom. A water jug hung from her hand, and from the way she was swinging it, if it hadn’t been empty when she picked it up, it certainly was now.

“I thought you were in bed?” Phoibe inched away from the door with studied nonchalance. “I mean, I was sure I heard you and Kyra come up, I thought you’d be, I mean, you know?” she waggled her eyebrows playfully by way of distraction.

“Did you now?” Kassandra gave Phoibe a quick, mildly suspicious look. “Well, Kyra doesn’t always, I mean we don’t always, well people, grown ups don’t always… anyway what are you doing lurking around here in the dark?” she changed tack.

Phoibe had been so sure that she’d be undisturbed during her expedition that she hadn’t even given a moment’s consideration to a suitable excuse should she be caught.

“I didn’t think to bring a lamp, I thought they’d be lit already,” she played for time. Kassandra was standing looking at her with an expression of wry amusement. Phoibe licked her lips nervously, rattling her mind in the hope that a feasible reason for her presence would fall out. But Kassandra was right in front of her now, and there was a playful twinkle in her eye as she reached out and ruffled Phoibe’s hair.

“Don’t look so nervous, little one. I know why you’re creeping about.”

“You do?” she cleared her throat quickly to try and clear the squeak.

“Yes. And you don’t need to be tiptoeing around in the dark. This is your home now. If you’re hungry, you come and get something to eat. With a lamp. I don’t want you falling down strange stairs in the dark and breaking your ankle. Come on.” She put an encouraging hand between Phoibe's shoulder blades. “Let’s go see what we can rustle up. I was going to the kitchen anyway.” She raised the jug by way of explanation.

“Ah ha, yes, you’re right, I was hungry, it woke me up.” Phoibe could feel how close she was to babbling. As they entered the kitchen she busied herself with lighting a few candles from the embers of the stove. “I thought you’d be annoyed, because you told me to eat more at supper and I didn’t.”

Kassandra stopped by the door and looked over at her, crouched by the oven, outlined in the warm glow of the slumbering fire. Phoibe was no stranger to death but this time it was a child, younger than herself. Even though she hadn’t known him, it had surely brought her nose to nose with the concept of her own mortality.

“No, Phoibe. You weren’t hungry then, these are odd times just now, nothing is quite how it should be. Not even your appetite,” she gave her a wink.

“You know,” Phoibe got to her feet and positioned the candles. “You don’t need to stay with me, I’m fine now. You get the water and go back to Kyra. She’ll be missing you no?”

It was Kassandra’s turn to look a shade shifty and wrong footed now. She made a performance of unbarring the door. Her cautiously optimistic attempt to rekindle sex with Kyra had come to another frustratingly premature end, less abrupt and tearful than previously but no less disheartening. After a little while spent comforting Kyra she had seized on the empty water jug as an excuse to get up and walk off the tension.

She’d been as surprised to bump into Phoibe as Phoibe had clearly been by Kassandra’s sudden appearance. But it was lucky she had decided to come down after all. Kyra would no doubt have her suspicions about how long it was taking Kassandra to fill a water jug, but she’d explain when she went back to bed. Right now, Phoibe should not be sitting on her own in the dark thinking about dead children.

“Kyra is fine. She’s probably dropped off to sleep by now. Rattle that fire around a bit, there’s bound to be some bread in the pantry, let’s toast it eh? You like when we do that at camp.”

When she returned with the filled jug some minutes later, Phoibe had stirred the fire embers into life and added a little split wood, not enough to support a blaze but sufficient to brown some bread. She had found half a loaf and was cutting slices with a good deal more enthusiasm than accuracy.

Kassandra found some cheese and pulled a couple of chairs over to the fire. A few minutes later they were sitting in companionable silence, Kassandra toasting the less wedge shaped of the slices, along with her toes.  “It’s getting chilly out there.” She examined the bread, turned the slice on the end of the knife and held it back over the heat. “Do you have enough covers?”

“I’ve got a dog,” Phoibe pointed out reasonably. The thin end of her slice was starting to curl. She tore it off and began to eat.

“Hmm, good point, I was forgetting that. I’m surprised he’s not with you to be honest.”

“He’s fast asleep,” Phoibe evaded smoothly. “He’s a big lazy lump sometimes.”

There were a few more moments of silence before Kassandra took a deep breath, stretching out her warming toes and glancing side long at Phoibe.  “I meant that, you know. About this being your home now. You don’t have to sneak around like you shouldn’t be here. As long as you _aren’t_ sneaking around where you shouldn’t be of course,” she laughed.

“Me?” Phoibe broke off a lump of cheese and pressed it onto her bread. “As if I would!”

Kassandra laughed delightedly and followed her example. “Yes. As if you would,” she shook her head. “But seriously, little one. You aren’t a guest here. You live here, all right?”

Phoibe nodded, her mouth too full of bread and cheese to speak. They sat quietly for a while, the only accompaniment the crunch of bread and occasional pop and flare of a pocket of resin in the wood.

“You didn’t know Nikos,” Kassandra said at last swallowing the last of her supper and brushing the crumbs from her hands. “But all the same. It’s an upsetting thing to happen. Are you all right?”

Phoibe gave it a moment’s consideration before nodding decisively. “Yes, I am. I’m sad for Kyra, because she’s definitely upset about it, and it’s not her fault. And I didn’t know Nikos, but I feel more angry for him. Because he wasn’t doing anything wrong. And someone just killed him to make Kyra look bad, it seems. That’s a shitty thing to do. Sorry for the language, but it is.”

“No. You’re right,” Kassandra conceded. “It is a shitty thing to do.”

“You knew him though,” Phoibe said thoughtfully. “Are you all right?”

It took a few seconds for her to reply but when she did she sounded sincere. “Not entirely, not right now. I feel like you I suppose. Sad and angry. I’m sad that Nikos got robbed of his chance to grow up and make a good life for himself. I’m sad that Kyra seems to blame herself for all the things that are going wrong now. But I’m angry too. I’m angry that someone would kill a child to try and make a political point. And I’m furious that they’ve hurt the woman I love, so badly.”

“What will you do when you catch them?”

“Do?” Kassandra took a breath and stared into the softening flames. “Honestly, Phoibe. It depends.”

“On?” she looked perplexed.

“On the circumstances when I catch them. I’m pretty sure that Kyra will want me to take them alive. She’s been a just archon. She’ll want there to be some sort of trial, for the people to see who did this and why.”

“Then she’ll have them executed?”

Kassandra’s look was somewhat surprised, but Phoibe responded with a shrug.

“Whoever it is, they poisoned some food and killed a little boy. Either they did it on purpose to kill one of the orphans. Or they poisoned the pastries and didn’t even know where they were going. They could have killed anyone. I don’t think you can make someone like that be a better person by putting them in prison. But maybe that’s just me?”

“No. No Phoibe, it’s not just you. And truthfully? If it were just down to me? I’d kill the bastard myself.”

A branch in the fire cracked apart in a flurry of sparks, startling them both.

“Well,” Kassandra got to her feet, brushing crumbs from her tunic and began to bank the fire for the morning. “Time we were in bed. Both of us.”

Once upstairs, Kassandra gave every indication of accompanying Phoibe to tuck her in, but unsure of whether she’d left anything incriminatory out on her desk, she demurred. “You need to go and see to Kyra,” she shook her head. Seeing Kassandra’s raised eyebrows, she hastily corrected. “No, I meant... look after her, in a comforting way I mean.”

“I see,” Kassandra smirked. “Is that right? Well, I suppose Orion can tuck you in for once. Good night little one. We’ll probably be gone by the time you get up. Be good all right? Stay out of trouble. Milk the nanny and keep your fingers away from Bitey.”

“Will do,” Phoibe nodded, relieved, holding up her fingers for playful inspection. “Kassandra?” she called softly, once she’d reached the bedroom door. Kassandra stopped, the jug in one hand, the other on the handle, looking quizzical. “I hope tomorrow isn’t too awful.”

“Oh it’ll be awful all right, Phoibe,” she sighed. “It’s purpose is to be awful. To give voice to grief. For a lot of people that’s helpful.”

But not for Kassandra, Phoibe thought sadly, as she whispered good night and watched her close the door.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe levels up her rogue skills, and Aegeus has a roller coaster of a day.

The following morning the sunlight was blazing, wincingly bright, through her window. She’d slept in. Even through Orion’s early morning lumbering off the bed and scratching open the door on his way out to his morning toilet. She had fully intended to be up bright and early to say goodbye to Kyra and Kassandra before they left.

If she was totally honest, Phoibe was feeling a little bit guilty that she wasn’t going to attend any of the funeral rites. But she knew none of the people involved and Kyra’s explanation of the nature of today’s proceedings had made her cringe at the prospect of seeing a room full of grown ups weeping and tearing at their clothes.

Her own parents' send off at the beach on Kephallonia had been a basic, hastily arranged affair, but there had been a quiet dignity to it that Phoibe appreciated in retrospect. Her abiding memories of it, when she could bear to revisit, were of Kassandra. 

Kassandra helping her down to the pyre. Kassandra holding the torch with her. Kassandra’s big rough hand totally swallowing Phoibe’s as they set the tinder into blazing life. Kassandra whispering comforting words in her ear as she eased her away from the flames. Kassandra wrapping her in a calm, solid embrace that night, singing softly to her until she fell asleep.

Her eyes prickled with tears and she wiped them brusquely on the edge of the covers. She had work to do. Hastily washing and dressing she went downstairs, pausing on the way to peep quickly into Kassandra’s bedroom just to confirm that they’d left. Being interrupted mid snoop the previous night had been enough of a shock for a while.

If anything the villa seemed even quieter in daylight than it had the night before. It was usually humming with organised activity. Staff bustling back and forth on errands both political and domestic, petitioners arriving to see the Archon, the busy warmth of the kitchen. Now Phoibe’s footsteps echoed unnervingly along the corridor.

The main door was still closed. This was something of a novelty during daytime and an advantage that she hadn’t expected, but of course there would be no petitioners today. She was sorely tempted to go straight to the office door and give it a try. She doubted that Kyra would have left it open on a day when she was going to be absent, but perhaps it would reveal itself to be breachable in the light of day.

The grumbling of her stomach intervened before she could act on her impulse. She was very hungry, she realised. The midnight snack of bread and cheese was in the distant past now and hungry investigators made mistakes. It would be wise to go and get something to eat and run through her plan in her mind as she did so.

On her way to the kitchen it occurred to her that she should check on the whereabouts of Orion and Praxos. The former was easy enough. She put her fingers to her lips and gave a piercing whistle, then waited. No answering bark, no scrabbling claws on tilework. He was definitely away somewhere and that somewhere was likely to be by Praxos’ side. 

All the same, she thought she’d nip down to the cellars and check just to be sure. He’d said he was going out riding but who knew for how long, or when he’d set out. He could be back and having a midmorning snooze as he seemed inclined to. She definitely did not want Praxos blundering onto her trying to pick her way into the Archon’s office. Whilst she had convinced herself that her plan was for the common good, and her intentions were to help Kyra, she had a feeling that he would be disappointed. And she found that she didn’t want to disappoint him in the same way that she never wanted to let down Kassandra.

It was cool and pleasantly earth smelling in the cellars, and quiet as the grave. Her footsteps, which had rattled around the empty hallway were soft here, muffled by casks of wine and ale, baskets and sacks of supplies neatly stored in open alcoves and racks. Over to one side was a green door with a humorous image of a tubby bear on it. This was Praxos’ room. Cymone had pointed it out to her when they’d come to collect vegetables.

“That bear is so good,” Phoibe had chuckled as they’d passed with a basket full of turnips and onions. “It’s meant to be Praxos, right?”

“Looks like him, no? Just between you and me, because it doesn’t suit her very staid professional image.” Cymone pursed her lips playfully. “But the Archon had a little too much to drink one night and staggered down here to do that. The day after, she was so embarrassed that she tried to wash it off, but Praxos wouldn’t let her.”

Phoibe paused now to look at it again. There were a few areas where whatever Kyra had used had run, dribbling down the planks, but on the other hand her lack of inhibition had no doubt helped give it its playful fluidity. She tried to imagine Kyra giggling and tiptoeing down here with a lantern and a pot of paint. Had Kassandra been with her at the time, she wondered? It seemed like the sort of nonsense that she would be involved in.

Putting her ear to the door she listened hard for breathing or snoring and heard neither. “Praxos?” she called, tapping lightly. What was she going to say if he answered she thought suddenly. She was forgetting to plan for all eventualities again. Thankfully it seemed as though she wasn’t going to get called on it. All was quiet. There was no lock on the door. Presumably it would be a rash person indeed who tried to steal anything from Praxos’ room.

Perhaps because there wasn’t much to take, she decided, peeping in and looking around. It was sparsely furnished, most of the space being taken up by a big sturdy looking bed. There was a table to one side with a couple of plain horn cups and a large jug, containing ale judging by the faint bitter smell. A couple of rough blankets rucked into a vague nest structure by the foot of the bed indicated where Orion slept on his visits. There was a cupboard, presumably containing his clothes and personal belongings and a rack currently heaving with massive pieces of armour, a titanic mace propped up beside it.

There was little in the way of decor and Phoibe wondered how much time he spent here, when he wasn’t asleep. There was no sign of his bow or quiver though, so perhaps he’d decided to do a little hunting while he was out, after all. That was good, it would keep him busy for longer, and longer still if he went to drop his haul at the orphanage or the tavern.

Turning to leave, something on the opposite wall caught her eye and she took a few tentative steps inside to see better. It was a bow. Much too small to belong to Praxos. It was a bit smaller than the one Phoibe was currently using, and although Praxos must at one time have been of a size to use it, that was nigh impossible to imagine now. It was a plain weapon but well constructed, the grip bound tightly in heavily worn leather. It was difficult to make out any other detail in the dim glow bleeding in from the torchlit cellar, but there seemed to be something worked into one of the arms, just above the grip.

With care bordering on the reverent Phoibe stretched up on her tiptoes and eased the bow off the hooks mounting it to the wall. As she walked to the door she weighed the weapon in her hands. It was beautifully balanced, and had clearly seen a lot of use. Every inch of the wood was polished smooth by the passage of hands. Out in the cellar she went to stand below the flickering torch to examine it more carefully.

At first glance there was nothing. It was just a simple, well made, well used, hunting bow. But on closer examination there was a small scorched patch on one side, curling around the thickest part of the wood. Carefully etched, one above and one below the grip were the letters K and P. Phoibe traced the initials with a fingertip and found her mind drifting to the beautiful, as yet unused bow sitting in the cupboard in her bedroom.

Guilt tightened her chest as she carefully replaced Kyra’s bow. When the whole mess with the poisoner was sorted out, the first thing she would do would be to ask Kyra if she would take her hunting. It seemed like a lifetime since she’d petulantly scorned the gift, now she could think of nothing better than being helped to master it by a former Daughter of Artemis.

She closed the door quietly behind her, casting a final fond glance at the caricature bear, and made her way up to the kitchen. She’d prepared a quick breakfast for herself when she remembered that she’d told Kassandra she would milk the goat. Phoibe was absolutely certain the stable staff would still be around, the livestock didn’t get to take a day off after all, and the remaining nanny would no doubt be milked with or without Phoibe. But she’d said she would do it, so collecting the empty jug she set off for the shed.

By the time she returned with the foamy milk and sat down to eat, more of the morning had been whittled away than she’d intended. If she didn’t get a move on Kassandra and Kyra would be coming back and she would still be sitting here eating honeyed tagenites. Cramming a last piece into her mouth and emptying her cup, she brushed the crumbs from her tunic and set off for the office door, feeling far more relaxed than she had last night.

The door would of course be locked, she knew that, but a little voice at the back of her mind told her she should confirm it. You never could be sure after all. She’d be looking to get in via the terrace doors. The lock there was of a type she was familiar with and she was sure she’d be able to handle it. The guards would almost certainly be on their day time patrols, and though she hadn’t sat and specifically observed them she knew that once they’d passed the terrace doors they would make a circuit of the east side of the building. It would give her ample time to defeat the lock, slip inside and close the doors securely after her. Then she would be able to rifle through the desk at her leisure.

She would have to take care when exiting of course, so that she didn’t blunder into the guards on her way out. And pay close attention to the way the papers were organised in the drawer. No clumsy mistakes to give herself away. Expecting nothing, she took hold of the door handle, already half walking past it and was astonished when it turned smoothly in her hand and the door opened a crack.

Oh! Well that was unexpected. No doubt emotions had been heightened this morning and Kyra had forgotten to secure the door after her. Though why she’d been in here in the first place was another matter of course. This would provide an ideal opportunity to examine the lock from the opposite side as well. It would be very useful if she could work out how to get in and out at will, and the more you could learn about a lock the more likely -

“Mistress Phoibe! What an unexpected surprise!”

“Gods teeth Aegeus!” she clapped a hand to her chest. “You scared the sh- life out of me.”

“Ah. Two unexpected surprises occurring simultaneously. A surprise in itself,” he smiled. “I had thought that you would be out attending the prothesis.”

“No, I don’t know anyone there, and well, I thought it would be awkward.” Her pulse was gradually beginning to slow. What the hell was it with Aegeus and this office? He was like bloody Cerberus. “You decided not to go?” She shuffled forward, casually drawing the door closed behind her, hoping to avoid awkward questions. 

Aegeus shuffled uncomfortably, the lines of his face deepening as he grimaced. “No, Mistress Phoibe.” He was holding a large tablet, and hugged it to his chest now, in a way that must be doing his notes no good at all, Phoibe thought. “I...well the Archon, gracious as ever, did ask whether I wished to attend, but,” he was gnawing at his lower lip. 

Phoibe waited politely, assuming what she hoped was an encouraging expression as he clearly wrestled with his thoughts.

“I decided that it would be much better for everyone if I took the opportunity to tidy some of the accounts.” He tapped the tablet with a twitchy finger. “The fact of the matter is, Mistress Phoibe, I am, well, interacting with other people is not one of my strengths. I am not like the Archon, confident and composed in her negotiations, or Mistress Savina, who can endear herself to all about her with a mere smile, or even Misthios Kassandra with her easy charm.” He gave her a melancholy smile. “Despite my best endeavours I somehow always seem to…well,” he laughed dismissively. “I am happier with my numbers anyway. Numbers do not lie or betray.”

“No, I suppose not,” Phoibe looked at him thoughtfully. “You can make them lie though. If you’re a clever person, or a bad person.”

He stood examining his tablet for a moment before speaking. “I really hadn’t considered that Mistress Phoibe.”

“No, of course you haven’t,” she shook her head. “Because you wouldn’t ever do that. You’re the sort of clever person who would be able to work out when someone else had been doing it. That’s a really useful skill too. Not everyone has to be good with people.”

“I… do you suppose so?”

“I know so,” she tucked her thumbs in her belt and smiled. “It might not be as flashy and crowd pleasing, but this place couldn’t run without your numbers and records, right?”

There was a moment’s quiet consideration before he replied. “You are correct Mistress Phoibe, of course. Indeed there may even be a way for me to make my own small consideration to the smooth running of current mournful events.”

“Absolutely,” Phoibe assured him. “Someone is going to have to keep a track on what’s being spent and supplied while everyone else is off dealing with upset people, right?”

“Indeed.” He nodded thoughtfully. “The day to day running of the isles will stride inexorably onward despite the growing chaos.”

Chaos was a strong word, Phoibe thought, but then Aegeus seemed to be given to hyperbole. “Well, I should go and get on with my letters home,” she said breezily. It looked as though she was going to get away without having to conjure an excuse for lurking around the office.

She’d almost reached the foot of the stairs when Aegeus called out to her. “Did you perhaps require some additional pens, Mistress Phoibe?”

“Pens?” she frowned, puzzled. He’d given her a fistful just a few days ago. What did he imagine she was doing with them? “No, I’ve barely made a dent in the ones you gave me.”

“Oh, I just wondered. You were in the office?” He gestured over his shoulder. “I thought that perhaps?”

“Pens! Oh yes!” She thought on her feet. “To tell you the truth Aegeus, I don’t really know how to trim a reed properly. I was hoping that perhaps Kyra, the Archon, might have some unfinished ones, then I could get an idea of how she does it so well?”

Aegeus’ face brightened considerably. “Why Mistress Phoibe! I am, of course, not as expert as our dear Archon, but if you’ll permit me a little boastfulness, I can trim a rather neat reed myself. It would be my very great pleasure to impart my knowledge to you, if you’ll permit me?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she waved her hands in protest. “I can’t take you away from your work, not when you’ve come in specially to get on with it.”

“No imposition at all,” he dismissed her concerns with an airy wave of his hand. “I have ample time to work on the accounts, I assure you. In fact I should be glad of the company on what was to be a rather gloomy day.”

His normally hangdog expression had been replaced with a look of such uncharacteristic hopefulness that Phoibe didn’t have the heart to protest any further. She wasn’t going to get into that desk any time today, and honestly there seemed to be more to Aegeus than met the eye. By his own admission, and Phoibe’s observation, he struggled to interact with people. And as long as they were talking about adults, that was something Phoibe had no difficulty with.

Helping to socialise Aegeus might be an interesting side project, and if he became a shade more charismatic as a result, surely that would also be helpful to Kyra.

“Thank you Aegeus, that’s really kind of you.”

“Not at all. Permit me to acquire a selection of reeds for our lesson.” He made his way to a shallow alcove which housed the inconspicuous door to the small supply room. Rummaging in the leather pouch at his hip he gave a brief exclamation of surprise. “How fortunate that we bumped into each other today. I had quite forgotten that I have this for you.” With an unexpectedly theatrical flourish he produced a key from the pouch and held it out towards her.

“Er… thank you?” She took it, turning it over in her palm and examining it curiously. It was very well made, heavy and a little rusty from disuse. Presumably its partner lock was equally sophisticated.

Aegeus gave a gratified little chuckle at her confusion. “It unlocks the supply room. I knew that I had a spare one somewhere. It's a rather lovely thing in its own right, no?” He watched with approval as she examined it closely. “Are you at all interested in the workings of locks, Mistress Phoibe.”

“Eh? Oh, well I don’t know much about them,” she lied glibly. “But they are interesting. Like puzzles, no? You must have to be really clever to make them.”

“Indeed,” he fumbled in the pouch and produced a second, very similar looking key. 

At first Phoibe thought he was just showing her his own copy of the one she held. But when she had it in her hand she realised that there were subtle differences. 

“They might be sisters.” Aegeus smiled. “Certainly they had the same father. An excellent craftsman, devoted to his work. Not like the shifty lay about responsible for repairing the Archon’s desk I assure you.”

“They’re almost the same,” Phoibe held them up next to each other. “What is this second one for?”

“That is the key to the Archon’s office,” he explained. “The craftsman in question was responsible for securing all the most important rooms in the villa. The wine cellar, the records room, the office where we keep a reserve of drachmae for day to day bills and so on. If you were to see all his keys together, you would notice how they all appear to be related. Intriguing, no?”

“Fascinating,” Phoibe agreed quietly, committing the differences between the two keys to her memory. As she handed the second key back to Aegeus, she smiled to herself. He’d as good as given her her own copy of the office key. All that was required was the judicious application of a small file, and she knew where to find one of those. There was an outbuilding by the stables where the grounds staff kept tools and supplies. A quick visit later would no doubt provide her with a suitable file. 

Aegeus was smiling at her and had his hand extended towards the door, inviting her to try out her new acquisition. As she unlocked the door it occurred to her that she would need an explanation for no longer having a key to the supply cupboard once she’d altered it. Aegeus would no doubt be disappointed to hear that she’d lost it, but it would be worth dealing with that to have unfettered access to the office.

Phoibe did have a pretty good grasp of reed trimming but she downplayed it significantly in order to give Aegeus an opportunity to educate her. They’d gone to sit out in the shade of the yard to work and after the first fifteen minutes or so Aegeus had begun to relax. As much as he was likely to do without a bit more work at any rate, Phoibe decided. 

Bundling up the newly trimmed pens some time later, she couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be in no real hurry to race off to his accounting. She had in her pocket the small cloth pouch that she carried everywhere for occasions when she found herself at a loose end. 

This was how Kassandra happened upon the unlikely sight of Phoibe and Aegeus sitting cross-legged in the yard, playing knuckle bones when she returned, tired and irritable from the day’s funeral observations.

“Hey, what have I said about gambling?” She startled them both with her arrival.

“No, it's not for money.” Phoibe defended quickly, beginning to gather up the well worn pieces and returning them to their pouch. “Just for fun.”

In all the time she’d known him Kassandra had never heard the word fun used to describe anything associated with Aegeus, but here he was scrambling to his feet, brushing dust from his skirts and leaping to Phoibe’s defense.

“I assure you Misthios, there wasn’t even the suggestion of money changing hands, Mistress Phoibe was simply being kind enough to teach me the fundamentals of the game. I do vaguely recall playing with my sister when I was but a child, but so many memories of that time are -”

It was the first that Kassandra had heard of him having a sister, but that was not what concerned her right now. “What are you doing here, Aegeus?” She strode out into the yard, unclipping her chlamys as she approached the pump.

“I was intending to work on the villa accounts. Recent events have resulted in a disruption of normal routine as I’m sure you are only too well aware.” He stopped mid sentence. “Forgive my inquisitiveness Misthios, but, is that blood on your armour?”

Phoibe turned quickly at this, scrabbling to her feet and eyeing Kassandra with concern. She’d draped her discarded chlamys over a low bench and was pumping water into one of the pails kept nearby. Taking a couple of steps closer she could see a scattering of brownish splatters on the front of Kassandra’s breast plate and as she began to unfasten it, Phoibe noticed that a couple of her knuckles were split and the back of her fingers caked with dried blood.

“Kassandra!” She raced over. “What happened? Do we need to get Theis?”

“For this?” She snorted in derision. “She’d never let me live it down if I dragged her out here for a couple of split knuckles. Near impossible to stitch anyway.” She was pouring a little of the water onto the ground and mixing it to a gritty paste with her fingers. “There were some heightened emotions as we were leaving the orphanage.” She unfastened her bracers, found more splashes there and hunkered down to scour off the worst of it.

“A brawl?!” Aegeus squeaked. “Oh gods! The Archon! Is she safe? Was she injured? Is she back? I must go and tend to her.”

“Calm down, man.” Kassandra sighed, glancing up at him. “It’s my job to guard the Archon, no?” She cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “I guarded the Archon. She’s absolutely fine.” 

It had felt good to hit someone after recent events, if she was truthful. Even if it was just some mouthy drunk attempting to prod Kyra in the chest while he catalogued her deficiencies as a governor. Kyra would have been more than capable of flooring him herself, she knew that, but Kassandra hadn’t let him get within arm’s reach.

“But to dare attempt to lay hands upon her person?” Aegeus was fidgeting from foot to foot, hands clasped at his chest. 

“He didn’t get close enough,” Kassandra snorted. “Bloody fool.”

“What did you do with him?” Phoibe asked quietly, taking one of the bracers and copying Kassandra, taking a lump of gritty paste and rubbing at the brown splashes before rinsing with a handful of water and repeating the process.

“Gave him a leathering obviously,” she frowned, working at a deeply tooled section of her breastplate. “Then kicked him off the dock to cool down. When she’s retrieved him, Leto is going to throw him in the cells to reflect on his idiocy. Then if I heard correctly, she’s got him earmarked for latrine duty at the guard house. So that’ll be an experience.”

“The Archon is unharmed then?” Aegeus was still seeking reassurance. “All the same perhaps I should -”

“Aegeus!” Kassandra looked up from her task, resting her elbows on her knees. “You should go and carry on with whatever tasks were so pressing that you felt compelled to come in when you’d been given the day off. We’ve had a tiring morning, believe me. We’re going to have something to eat and then I’d like Kyra to spend the rest of the day relaxing, not getting lured back into work.”

She sounded irritable, Phoibe thought, and no wonder. But after all her hard work softening Aegeus she really didn’t want Kassandra snapping at him and undoing it all.

“Why don’t you go up and see Kyra?” She touched her arm gently. “I’ll finish this. I know what I’m doing. And then I’ll go and crack on with my letter. I’ve still not got much done and Aegeus helped me trim some new pens, I want to try them out.”

Kassandra didn’t respond for a moment, crouching with her gritty fingers resting on the warm bronze of her armour. After a few seconds of consideration she shook the sand from her hand and rinsed it in the bucket.

“Thank you Phoibe, that’s kind of you.” She got to her feet with a weary grunt and looked at Aegeus. “I’m sorry I snapped.” She walked over to him and patted his bony shoulder. “It’s been a trying day, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It was thoughtful of you to help Phoibe.”

“Not at all, Misthios,” he shook his head. “It was my pleasure. Are you sure that I shouldn’t -”

“Either go home and rest, or carry on with your tasks.” She squeezed his shoulder firmly. “All we want to do now, is relax a bit. Phoibe?” She turned back to see her shaking the excess water from the bracer she’d cleaned. “Sure you can manage this?”

“Absolutely,” she nodded. “Shall I take it up to your room when I’ve finished? I mean, unless you’re, not if you’re… in there. Obviously.”

Kassandra gave an affable chuckle and nodded, before turning, collecting her chlamys and going back inside. Phoibe made a show of concentrating on the second bracer, watching out of the corner of her eye until both Kassandra and Aegeus had left. Alone now, she sat cross legged to finish off the cleaning. With Aegeus busy with his work and Kassandra and Kyra putting their feet up, she had an ideal opportunity to go search around for a suitable tool to alter the key and then the job was as good as done, she grinned to herself.

Taking a few minutes to load a tray with food Kassandra made her way upstairs and found Kyra in the main room. She had changed into a short chiton and was standing on the balcony nursing a cup of wine and peering out over the courtyard. She turned as Kassandra entered and gave her a wan smile.

“How’s your hand?”

“Pfft, this?” Kassandra snorted dismissively, putting down the tray and flexing her knuckles. They’d stopped bleeding and if they healed as rapidly as she generally did, they’d be cleanly knitted in a couple of days. “As good as mended. How are you, love?”

“Furious,” Kyra said quietly, pouring wine for Kassandra and going to sit on the couch, patting the seat beside her. “A mouthy little drunk daring to approach like that! This has gone on long enough. We bury poor Nikos tomorrow and then we start to get this under control.”

“That’s my girl,” Kassandra gave her a playful smile. “My Archon,” she corrected at the sight of Kyra’s raised eyebrow.

Some time later, Kassandra had managed to persuade Kyra to eat a little and drink rather more and they were sitting side by side. Kassandra had removed her boots and had her feet up on the table, her arm around Kyra’s shoulders.

“We should check on Phoibe!” Kyra sat up suddenly and looked at her. “She’s been on her own all morning. Her letter must be truly epic by now.”

Kassandra shook her head, smiling and explained the unlikely scenario she’d stumbled upon on their return.

“So you’ve left her to haul your armour upstairs on her own? Your chest pieces probably weigh half as much as she does!”

“She can bring it a piece at a time. The exercise will do her good,” Kassandra smirked. “Knuckle bones isn’t much of a work out. You want me to go and give her a hand, is that it?”

“Not particularly, no,” Kyra said dryly. To Kassandra’s surprise she sat and shifted smoothly to straddle her lap. “Are you all right, love? Really?”

“Getting better by the minute,” she teased, resting her hands on Kyra’s hips and stroking gently. “But really, this is nothing.” She flexed her bruised fingers.

“No, I didn’t mean that.” Kyra shook her head. “This morning, the whole prothesis business, I know how difficult that was for you.”

Kassandra looked down, running the hem of Kyra’s chiton through her fingers. “Yes, I’m not good with… all that performative emotion. It’s embarrassing.”

“It wasn’t all performative you know.” Kyra’s expression was fond as she reached up and began to trace the fine scars on Kassandra’s face with the very tips of her fingers, settling finally on the one that bisected her lips.

“No, I realise that.” Kassandra cast her mind back to the painfully genuine grief of Melina and the other orphanage staff. “Truly? I’m not sure which was more awful.”

“I know,” Kyra murmured softly, resting their foreheads together. Kassandra could smell the rich scent of the wine on her breath. “We’re nearly through this, together. One more hurdle to clear tomorrow, and then we can get to the bottom of this and quieten Mykonos’ mouthy drunks for good, no.”

Kassandra drew back a little to meet Kyra’s eyes, looking deep into them, marveling anew at their deep intensity, watching her pupils steadily dilating.

“Kyra. I am going to find whoever did this, I swear. When we get back from the funeral tomorrow, we should meet with Praxos and -”

Kyra stopped her with a soft kiss, followed it with another, snaked her fingers into Kassandra’s hair and held her close, tilting her head to whisper in her ear. “A marvelous plan, I’m certain, but let’s not talk about it now. It's been such a dreadful few days. I’d so like to put it to one side for a little while.”

“What is this, love?” Kassandra could feel the hair at the back of her neck prickling, and her pulse thrumming in her ears at the sensation of warm breath against her throat. She was well aware that sex and death often danced in close embrace. Selene had told her many years ago that takings generally increased after an accident at the docks or lumber yard. People often liked to yell defiance in the face of tragedy and what better way than fucking? But Kyra hadn’t been in her normal frame of mind even before Nikos’ death and Kassandra didn’t think she could cope with another abortive attempt at lovemaking, not right now. “What is it that you want us to do here?” She took a steadying breath, swallowing hard.

“It has been a long time since I last witnessed you in action,” Kyra murmured, sucking the lobe of Kassandra’s ear between her lips, nipping playfully and smiling to herself as she felt her shudder. “And while he was a truly unworthy opponent, there was something about seeing you drag him to the docks by the scruff of his neck and kick him into the water that, I have to confess, was deeply… stirring.”

“Is that so?” Kassandra’s resolve was weakening by the moment. Kyra had run a hand down her braid, caressing her throat and was drifting across her collarbone now, heading slowly south in search of her breast. “Perhaps you should come and watch me train with the guards sometime then. Leto makes for a much more impressive challenge.”

“Gods!” She could hear the smile in Kyra’s voice. “I bet she does. I’ll have to bear that in mind.” She leaned back slightly, palming Kassandra’s breast through the rough fabric of her tunic, teasing her nipple between scissoring fingers. She tilted her head and surveyed Kassandra’s expression. “I understand you being wary, love." She bent and kissed the corner of her mouth. “I know how very frustrated you must be, and I’ve disappointed you recently but -”

“No, don’t,” Kassandra protested between teasing kisses. “I understand. I do. I know how upset you’ve been by everything that’s been going on, and -”

“And now, I think we should try again, no?” Kyra suggested. 

Kassandra could smell the wine on her breath, taste it in her mouth as she deepened the kisses. Under other circumstances she would have been seriously hesitant to take advantage of the situation. But this was Kyra. Her lover, the woman she’d committed herself to, and they knew each other so well. Surely it would be permissible? Possibly Kyra had even drunk a little more than normal in the hope that Dionysius would give her the confidence to go through with it, that he would scour the unpleasant images from her mind and allow her to relax and enjoy herself.

“Kyra?” She slipped a hand around the back of her neck, held her firmly and kissed her thoroughly, feeling for any hesitancy. “If you’re sure? You know, you only have to say and we’ll stop, instantly.”

“Don’t let’s think about stopping before we’ve even started,” Kyra pinched Kassandra’s nipple firmly, drawing a quick gasp of arousal from her, laughing as she felt her take hold of her hips and pull her close, growling low and kissing up her neck to her ear.

“We should go to bed for the things that I have in mind.” Kassandra slipped her hands around to Kyra’s ass, hitching her tight against her in readiness for carrying her to the bedroom. But before she could brace herself to stand, or hear Kyra’s response, there was a brisk tap at the door. “Oh, perfect timing Phoibe,” she sighed and rolled her eyes.

Kyra seemed more amused than annoyed, laughing and kissing her lingeringly. “It’s all right, Kassandra, we have the rest of the day.”

“Perhaps she can be persuaded to take Orion for a walk.” Kassandra felt Kyra’s loss as she clambered off her lap, adjusting her chiton as she moved to sit beside her, calling Phoibe in as she did so.

They were both taken aback when it was Aegeus who walked in, his tablet clutched to his chest.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Kassandra grumbled. “I thought I said you should go and continue with your files or accounts or whatever the hell it was that drew you in today.”

“As indeed I have been doing,” he nodded. “I am almost finished, all will be in order, just as neatly as if we had been undisturbed these last few unfortunate days.”

“Very good Aegeus.” Kyra maintained her composure. “Have a safe journey home now, and I won’t be requiring your services tomorrow. I feel that it would present a much better impression if we all showed reserve, spent some time reflecting on what’s happened. Then the day after, we can start afresh. We’ll be very busy. Normal duties, as well as trying to get to the bottom of who is responsible for this succession of misfortunes. A rest tomorrow will fortify you for the work ahead. Take Sara to the beach perhaps? Present yourself fully refreshed the following day.”

Kassandra had some questions about that, but she wasn’t going to ask them now and risk delaying his departure.

“What a very charming idea Archon, though, you’re absolutely certain that my services will not be required?”

“Absolutely.” Kyra nodded, hearing Kassandra muttering under her breath beside her. “You take yourself home now. Get some rest.”

“Ever considerate,” he simpered. “Truly you are the most solicitous of mistresses.” Kassandra’s muttering increased substantially and Kyra slipped her hand down between them and discreetly stroked the outside of her thigh. “To have suffered such indignities yourself today and yet still to concern yourself with my well being. If only the citizens of Mykonos could be aware of this side of their Archon, surely they would prostrate themselves at your feet and beg -”

“Home, Aegeus,” Kyra interrupted before Kassandra could leap to her feet and throw him out bodily. 

“Yes, go and regale Sara with tales of the Archon’s boundless largesse,” she grumbled.

“Oh indeed I do Misthios, nightly. Why only last night I -”

“Aegeus!” Kyra barked. “Home, now. We are all very tired.”

“Ah, of course, of course, a trying day I am sure. There is just one final detail though Archon, and then my records will be complete, signed and sealed as it were, and ready for filing away with their brethren.”

“What is it, Aegeus?” Kyra rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Quickly now, please?”

“Yes, it's about the child’s funeral.” He glanced down at his tablet.

“You may attend if you wish or not,” Kyra sighed. “It will be a very early gathering as I’m sure you know. But you are welcome to join the household, of course.”

“Ah, no,” his brows creased in dismay. “I… well I trust you will convey my deepest sympathies to Mistress Melina, on what I’m sure she considers an almost personal loss. But I wanted to ask, who will be paying?”

Kyra and Kassandra both looked up sharply, but he had opened the bi-fold tablet and produced a stylus from somewhere.

“The rites will be paid for out of the public purse. Nikos was in the care of the city. He is still in our care until we bury him tomorrow beside his parents.” Kyra’s voice was tightly controlled.

“Of course, of course,” he nodded, concentrating on erasing something before readying the stylus point over the surface and looking up expectantly. “When you say the public purse however, Archon? Do you mean general funds, or will the costs be coming from the allowance given to the orphanage for its running and upkeep?” He was tapping the end of the stylus against his teeth and frowning thoughtfully, seemingly oblivious to the looks he was receiving from the two women.

“Aegeus, do we truly need to be discussing this now?” Kyra sounded more strained by the syllable.

“Well, as I understand it the provisions for the feast have already been ordered and arranged and the purveyors will of course be requiring recompense in short order. I can of course see an argument to be made for both solutions. The child was a ward of the city as you say and as such one might consider that his final expenses would fall to the lot of the general hardship fund. On the other hand, he did spend his last -”

Kassandra got abruptly to her feet, cursing, and strode across the room towards him. For one shocking moment Kyra was afraid that she was going to hit him and was halfway up to intervene. It seemed Aegeus shared her concern, because he reared back out of the way as Kassandra approached, but she barreled straight past him, barely brushing his shoulder.

“Wait right here!” she snarled, throwing open the door and slamming it after her as she left. An awkward silence hung over the room for the few minutes that she was away, then the door burst open and she stormed back in, carrying something in her hand. Approaching Aegeus she grasped his wrist, firmly enough to make him wince and slapped a weighty coin purse into his hand. “I’m paying for the fucking funeral,” she growled. “The food, the temple, the gravediggers, his memorial stone, all of it, and any left over can go to the orphanage.”

Aegeus looked down wide eyed at the oiled leather pouch weighing down his hand. After a few moments he swallowed audibly and looked up. “Most generous indeed Misthios. Such compassion, it does you,” he caught her look and stopped mid sentence, licking his lips nervously. “I’ll record it as a private donation, shall I?” he asked quietly.

Suddenly stone cold sober, Kyra watched Kassandra stride across the room to stand broodingly by the balcony. She got to her feet, and looked over to Aegeus, who was trying to handle the heavy purse and his tablet.

“Go home now, Aegeus,” she said firmly. “And don’t let me see you tomorrow.”


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which danders are up, and we learn that Nikos laid on a magnificent spread... no wonder Aegeus was anxious about who was paying.

Phoibe had been summoned down later that evening for a very awkward supper. But as it happened, it worked to her advantage that Kassandra and Kyra were downcast and distracted.

She’d spent some considerable time working at the key. It was proving to be a much harder task than she’d anticipated and her fingers were sore and still slightly rust stained despite her best attempts with soap and pumice before appearing in the kitchen.

No doubt it would have been a less taxing job if she’d had the right implements, but she’d had to make do with what she could find in the outbuilding by the stables, and the grounds staff’s tools were clearly not intended for such delicate work.

It was also surprisingly stressful. She was working from memory, though she’d sketched a quick diagram as soon as she’d reached her bedroom earlier in the day. Her chief concern was removing too much metal from the posts that she was altering. As Europa had often observed when trimming Phoibe’s hair, she could always take a little more off, but she couldn’t put it back on. And the metal wouldn’t be obliging enough to grow back if she was over enthusiastic. It would help if she could pop down to the office door now and again to check progress, but that was out of the question.

As she sat at the table eating her supper and trying to keep the rusty stains on her fingers hidden, her shoulders were tight and she had a bit of a headache. It was with some relief that she hugged Kyra and Kassandra goodnight.

“I can tuck myself in tonight, honestly.” She kissed Kassandra’s cheek. “You look exhausted and you have to be up before dawn tomorrow.”

She’d been afraid that Kassandra would put up a protest. Phoibe had cleared the table in her room as well as she could, just in case Kassandra insisted on performing her familial duties, but you could never be sure. She could be unnervingly observant when you didn’t want her to be. Thankfully she seemed to be too tired and gloomy to argue.

“You’re sure, little one?” She waited for Phoibe’s relieved confirmatory nod. “All right then. Sleep well.” She patted her back to send her on her way. “Is that letter finished yet?”

Shit! She was going to have to make some serious progress on that tomorrow or it was going to begin to look suspicious.

“Well, not as much as I’d have liked.” She edged towards the door. “I got a bit distracted keeping Aegeus company.” Kassandra gave a disgruntled exclamation at the mention of his name. “I’m going to really knuckle down tomorrow, get it finished, then I can take it down to the dock the day after and ask Barnabas to find passage to Kephallonia for it. He knows all the captains.”

The day’s events had managed to be that dreary cocktail of tiring and troubling that made sleep a necessity that was impossible to achieve. After a couple of hours of fitful tossing and turning Kassandra and Kyra gave up on the pretense that they were going to be able to get any rest and began to dress for the final mournful milestone of Nikos’ unfairly curtailed journey.

“Have you begun to formulate a plan to catch this bastard?” Kyra asked, peering intently into a polished bronze hand mirror as she worked at lining her eyes. “Damn!” She winced irritably. “Bloody nerves.” She shook out her hand.

“Here, let me.” Kassandra took it from her and crouched down, taking Kyra’s chin in her other hand. Seeing her dubious expression she laughed. “I once skinned a baby eel for a bet and won, so I think I can handle a little charcoal paste without putting your eye out.”

“I wasn’t actually worried about you blinding me.” Kyra still looked unsure.

“Kyra. Love.” Kassandra’s voice softened. “Trust me. I watch you apply this every morning, and I spend half the day gazing into your beautiful eyes. I’ve got this.”

Kyra shook her head, smiling fondly. “You have a silver tongue, my sweet Misthios.”

“I think you already knew that.” Kassandra raised her chin and kissed her softly. “Now. Sit still.”

There was something intensely intimate and vulnerable about sitting here in the lamp-lit bedroom, bare inches away from Kassandra as she traced along Kyra’s lash line, holding her chin steady between finger and thumb.

Kassandra had turned up the wicks of the lamps on the dressing table, to better see what she was doing and her irises glowed almost orange in the flickering light, rich and tawny, like a big cat’s. She was frowning in concentration and nipping her lower lip between sharp, white teeth, but her hand was rock steady as she worked. Mere moments later she was replacing Kyra’s cosmetics on the table and drawing back to admire her handiwork.

“I have traveled the entire length and breath of the Aegean, and set foot on every island that is more than a handful of rocks, and some that weren’t. But I have never encountered a woman more bold, brave and beautiful than you, my love.” She teased a loose strand of hair back from Kyra’s brow, looking at her with such sincerity that she felt herself blushing and unable to hold her gaze.

“Not even your pirate queen?” She tried to defuse the moment with teasing, but Kassandra was having none of it.

“Not even _the_ pirate queen.” She both corrected and confirmed. “She belongs to no one. Just like the lovely rebel queen of the Silver Islands.” She ran the backs of her fingers across the crest of Kyra’s cheekbone and she found herself leaning into the touch, impulsively catching Kassandra’s hand and halting its progress, holding it against her cheek.

“No, Kassandra.” She turned her head and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, where the broken skin was already beginning to knit. “I’m yours in every way that matters. I was, almost from our first meeting. If only I hadn’t been so proud and stubborn I might have seen it then and saved everyone a lot of grief.”

Kassandra gave a soft huff of laughter. “If you hadn’t been so proud and stubborn I doubt I’d have fallen in love with you. You were like no one I’d ever met. You still are.” She rested their foreheads together. “I’m no poet Kyra,” she breathed. “I don’t have elegant words to tell you what you mean to me, how much I love you.”

“And yet somehow you manage to,” Kyra smiled fondly. “Kiss me, Kassandra.” She tilted her head invitingly. “Kiss me like we’re going to make love when this terrible morning is over.”

Kassandra paused for a moment, gazing into her eyes as though looking for confirmation before complying. Drawing Kyra close against the unyielding bronze of her breastplate with one arm, she ran the fingers of her other hand through her hair, releasing the scent of the sweet oil she’d brushed through it.

The kiss tasted faintly of honey from the beeswax she’d applied to her lips and as Kassandra drew back at last she felt Kyra’s fingertips brush along the line of her jaw, sending a shiver trickling from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, priming her imagination. But there was no way to predict the day’s events, Gods knew the last few days should be an indelible reminder of that, she reflected, getting to her feet and extending her hands to Kyra.

“We should eat before we leave.” She extinguished the lamps. “Who knows how long we’ll be gone, and the last thing we need is the Archon passing out mid burial.”

Kyra didn’t have much of an appetite, but saw the wisdom of the argument. When they reached the kitchen Praxos was already sitting there eating day old tagenites and cold barley porridge. It looked like an unappetizing repast and Kassandra went to find bread and fruit instead.

“You asked me a question earlier?” She remembered as they sat eating. “I didn’t answer, but yes, I do have a plan of sorts. I’m going to trace those damned pastries back from the orphanage all the way to whoever grew the bloody beans if I have to. Someone must have an idea of when they were tampered with. If I’m really lucky there may still be some traces of the ingredients left. Perhaps we can work out which of them had the poison added.”

“You’re not going to sacrifice any more goats are you?” Praxos asked, cleaning a porridge spill from his breastplate.

“I didn’t technically sacrifice the last one,” Kassandra pointed out reasonably. “But no, that seems a bit excessive. I think it would upset Phoibe for one thing. I was thinking chickens might be less dramatic.”

“Less expensive too.” He poured water for them. “Aegeus would have a fit if you bought a herd of goats to test poison on.”

“With all due respect, Aegeus can go fuck himself,” Kassandra snapped, recalling the previous day’s interaction.

Praxos looked a little taken aback and Kyra slipped a hand under the table, resting it on Kassandra’s thigh between the smooth leather tassets of her belt. She could feel how very rigid her muscles were and stroked soothingly, Things were going to be tense and emotional enough this morning without Kassandra being wound taut before they’d even left the villa.

“While you’re working on that strand of the mystery, I had a similar idea for getting to the bottom of those bloody pictures.” Kyra pushed forward her cup for more water and took a sip before continuing. “For all his flaws Aegeus did make an interesting observation about them.” She ignored Kassandra’s disgusted snort.

“Did he now?” Praxos leaned back in his chair, fingers laced across his belly. “I didn’t think he looked at them for more than an instant.”

“Not at the contents, no.” Kyra shook her head. “The materials however? He certainly noticed them. The papyrus is particularly fine. Ridiculously so considering they are just being left around the agora and tavern. There are only a couple of places on the Silver Islands where it could have been bought. One here on Mykonos, where we get supplies for the villa, and the other on Delos. The same goes for the pigments.”

Kassandra had perked up somewhat at this information. “Well it’s flattering to know that we aren’t featuring in_ cheap_ pornography at least I suppose. Clearly someone’s made a significant purchase recently.”

“Precisely,” Kyra chose to ignore the first part of her remark. “I’m going to send Savina to check with both suppliers. I trust Barnabas will take her over to Delos?” She glanced at Kassandra and saw her confirmatory nod. “I’d like you to accompany her, Praxos, just to be on the safe side. Hopefully there will only be a handful of people who have bought that amount of papyrus in the last few months.”

“Sounds like we’ve got our plan then!” Praxos slapped his hands on his thighs with an air of finality.

“I wish I’d made a start right away.” Kassandra got to her feet and helped him to clear the table. “But there’s no point dwelling on that now. This morning?” She clapped Praxos on the shoulder. “We keep our eyes and ears open. Look out for anyone unfamiliar at this burial.”

Phoibe was woken much later by a loud, almost musical fart from Orion. She reared upright, flapping the blanket and groaning in protest. As he lumbered off the bed and plodded over to scratch open the door she found herself wondering why her fingers were so itchy and tight feeling. A cursory examination reminded her. There was a fine line of rust under her nails. She’d have to clean that out before Kassandra got back from the burial.

Which would be when, she wondered? Climbing out of bed she went to the window to check the sun. She’d slept in, clearly. Her conversation with Aegeus the previous day had revealed that the burial itself would take place before dawn but would be followed by a feast. A feast moreover ostensibly hosted by Nikos to thank everyone for their assistance in seeing him safely to the ferry. It sounded like it was intended to provide a coda to the mourning that had occupied the previous two days. Aegeus had informed her, with some relief, that it would be the final part of the rituals and that work would resume as normal the next day.

That meant she really needed to crack on with finding her way into the office Phoibe thought, as she quickly washed and dressed. Tomorrow would see the return, not only of Savina and Cymone but of petitioners. There would be people trooping in and out of the hallways and office all day. Corridors full of maids and stewards. The doors would be thrown open again to the watchful eyes of the guards. It had to be today, unless she was going to make another night time attempt.

She poured herself a cup of water and opened the drawer of her desk. Beneath a couple of neatly folded handkerchiefs lay the key and the file she had been using, along with the sketch she had made. It had been difficult to make out the details by lamplight the previous evening, and putting the scrap of papyrus on her desk she lay the key over the outline she’d traced. To her disappointment there was still some way to go. Her fingers tingled uncomfortably in anticipation, but there was nothing for it but to grit her teeth and knuckle down. After she’d been and scrounged up some breakfast that was.

The sun was rising by the time Melina clipped a lock of her hair and began to mix the libations of milk, honey, perfumes and oil. The burial party was relatively small, Melina and one of the wet-nurses, Theis, Rhea and Nike, a few representatives from the city. Fewer onlookers had gathered than Kassandra had anticipated. Presumably the novelty of misfortune was wearing off, she thought bitterly, taking advantage of the increasing light to scan the small gaggles of people watching from a distance. It was a trickier task than she’d imagined, the trees and memorial stones provided more cover than she liked and she was loath to leave Kyra’s side to investigate more thoroughly.

Frowning in frustration she allowed her attention to return to proceedings. One of the priestesses from the temple was chanting her way through a seemingly interminable prayer, and as Kyra stepped forward to assist with the offerings, Kassandra allowed her eyes to wander back to the upsettingly slight cloth wrapped figure that was the focus of all this ceremony. She had managed to scythe through a murderous cult, she’d faced down mercenaries twice her size, she’d wrestled bears and sharks, but when it came down to it, she’d been unable to save the life of one small boy, collateral damage in a covert grab for power.

She swallowed hard against the rising wave of nausea that had risen, seemingly out of nowhere and watched Kyra take up position beside Melina and the wet nurse, whose name she had yet to learn. Between them they had small pitchers or water, wine and milk, and platters containing the ritual offerings. Kassandra watched as they completed the ceremony. Everything, colours, sounds, scents, seemed both intense and strangely distant and she bit the inside of her lip sharply to stop her head from swimming.

From here they would return to the orphanage where some of the townswomen were already beginning to cleanse the store room and table with salt water and hyssop, prior to the thanksgiving feast. If there was anything Kassandra wanted less than to attend a meal to celebrate a child’s journey to the Styx, she could not think of it now, but the presence of Kyra and Praxos would be expected and she could scarcely leave them alone.

She had attended more than one perideipnon before now, but never for a child. The food was fine and plentiful, but she had no appetite for it, choosing instead to loom by the doorway, watching the street outside with narrowed eyes. Surely this would be the opportunity for one or more of the culprits to put in an appearance disguised among the groups chatting and taking advantage of Nikos’ post demise largess?

Praxos’ assistance would be valuable here, she thought after a while. There were faces she could put names to, ones she knew only in passing, and others so unfamiliar that they must be visiting from outside the city. How was she to tell who, if anyone, was behaving out of character? What was appropriate behaviour at a little boy’s funeral when all was said and done? A familiar voice leading a chorus in song told her, without turning to look, that Praxos was otherwise engaged.

The room was packed now and the air thick with the smell of sweat and perfume. Kassandra’s head was starting to ache. Glancing back to the table she saw Praxos and Kyra sitting so closely together that their elbows were touching. It would be safe enough to step outside for a while and get some fresh air.

Quite a few attendees seemed to have had the same idea. They were scattered along the street in groups of three and four, chatting and drinking. Kassandra assumed a professional looking posture and discreetly eyed her surroundings. There was one fellow standing alone some way off who drew her attention, in part because of his isolation from the others, but also because he was fully cloaked, his head covered with a thick, dark hood despite the heat of the day. Something about him made the hair on the back of her neck prickle and though his face was shadowed she was convinced that he was looking right back at her.

“Misthios? If I may?” Nike’s voice startled her out of her observations and she looked down to see her offering a cup of watered wine.

“Nike?” She touched her elbow lightly. “That man over there?” Turning, she found she was pointing at an empty space by the corner of a building. “Damn!” There was no point chasing after him, the streets were bustling now and he would only have to shuck off his brown cloak to become invisible. “There was some stranger, to me at least, I thought you might recognise him.”

“I’ve not been with _every_ man on Mykonos alas.” Nike pursed her lips playfully and seeing Kassandra’s embarrassed reaction gave a chuckle. “I’m sorry Misthios. I was aiming for levity and clearly fell short of the mark. Can you describe him?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was covered from head to toe, that was what attracted my attention.”

“If you wish to go barreling off in hot pursuit, I shan't be offended. No? Then here.” She held out the cup. “The Archon noticed you leaving and thought that perhaps you were a little overcome by the rather stifling atmosphere in there. She asked me to bring you some refreshment.”

“Thank you,” Kassandra accepted it with a dubious expression. “Kyra sent you?”

“Believe me Misthios, I was equally surprised at her choice of cup bearer, but it seems the Archon has reached the end of her tether with current circumstances, her dander appears to be up. And not before time, if you will forgive me for saying so?” Nike took a sip from her own cup and inclined her head towards Kassandra. “And now, I ought to make my goodbyes, lest tongues begin to wag. Or continue to wag would perhaps be more accurate.”

“Let them fucking wag!” Kassandra muttered darkly, draining half her cup and wishing it was less dilute. “I mean, of course, unless you -” she began to correct herself.

“Unless I wish to protect my reputation were you going to say?” Nike interrupted, laughing. “I’m already punching a good deal above my weight in the eyes of our phantom pornographer. The Archon _and_ her personal bodyguard? My reputation is just fine. But I’m glad to see that our Archon is not the only one whose ire has been roused. It is your ire I’m witnessing here, I hope?” She cocked an eyebrow.

Kassandra drained her cup and gave Nike a quizzical look. She took the empty cup from Kassandra’s hand and replaced it with her own nearly full one.

“You look as though you need this more than I do. I simply meant that under the circumstances anger will be far more useful than what appeared to be brooding self pity when I first came out here.” She watched as Kassandra turned the cup slowly in her hands, frowning down at the pinkish liquid.

“Kassandra,” she said at last, her voice lowered to a whisper. “You know that this,” she gestured over her shoulder into the crowded room. “None of this is your fault.” She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Kassandra’s elbow. “Even the mighty Kassandra of Sparta can’t save everyone.”

“I didn’t need to save everyone, Nike,” she said after a pause, her voice a husky rasp. “Just one little boy that I promised to protect.” She addressed the cup she was holding.

Nike took a deep breath, releasing it slowly and looking up to the sky. Not a cloud was visible.

“Kassandra,” she kept her voice low enough that only the two of them could hope to hear it, “if you were anyone else, I would tell you to finish your wine and then take you back to my room, because you look like you need it. But fortunately you have another option. You can spend the rest of the day brooding handsomely and blaming yourself for all of this? Or you can go back inside, sample the excellent food and rather more of the very excellent wine, escort our lovely Archon home and spend the rest of the day making love to her. Celebrate being alive! Tomorrow you can start afresh and track down this monster, catch him, and then I assume, kill him?”

“Funnily enough Phoibe asked the same thing.” Kassandra was still peering disconsolately into her cup.

“She’s a very smart girl and it's a valid question.” Nike shrugged. “But you have spent far too long here already and I’m damned sure that the Archon has.”

“The Archon will make her own decision about that.” Kassandra gave a weary smile and emptied the cup.

Nike took it smoothly from her hand and gave her a quick wink. “Clearly you forget my powers of persuasion, my friend. Wait here.”

Kassandra was a little surprised when Kyra did in fact emerge, minutes later, Praxos on her heels, weaving slightly. He had a cloth wrapped parcel dangling from one huge hand. Seeing Kassandra eyeing it curiously he held it aloft with a smile.

“Food! I brought enough for Phoibe, and you.” He gave her a tipsily sympathetic look. “I noticed that you didn’t eat anything.”

“I wasn’t there as a guest.” She fell into step beside them, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword.

“Everyone was a guest.” He shook his head. “We were waving him off, my friend. Tomorrow will be soon enough to begin our search in earnest.”

“I suppose so.” She rolled her shoulders and gave a sigh. “Though I feel like I’ve wasted too much time already.”

“Listen Kassandra, I’m going to the tavern, sink a little ale with friends. Why don’t you join me? If it will make you feel any better, I intend to ask a few questions, probe discreetly.”

“Discreetly?” She snorted softly. “It’s barely noon and you’re struggling to walk in a straight line!”

“That’s just my feet.” He tapped the side of his nose. “My wits are still razor sharp. What about it, my friend?” He leaned round Kyra to catch Kassandra’s eye.

“I think not. As the Archon’s personal bodyguard, it's my duty to stay by her side, at least till we are safely in the villa.”

“Later then perhaps?” He held out the package for Kyra to take. “Those little nut and honey things are for Phoibe.” He took a few paces in the direction of Mikis’ and stopped, turning back to look at them. “Actually, on second thoughts, you both look exhausted. Get some rest. I’m going to pick Mikis’ brains, he generally has an eye on what’s going on around the place. I’ll see you at supper eh?”

They watched him amble off and Kassandra shook her head. “Do you think he’ll be able to remember anything he does find out?”

“You’d be surprised.” Kyra smiled. “I do know that people are more likely to be loose tongued around him if they think he’s drunk.”

Kassandra glanced back over her shoulder as they set off for the villa. “You mean to say he’s not drunk?”

“Of course not!” Kyra shook her head. “Drunk before noon at a child’s perideipnon, what do you take him for?”

“I wasn’t thinking straight I suppose. Though people behave strangely at funerals, it has to be said. Take you!” She cocked an eyebrow. “Sending Nike out to bring me a drink?”

“She wasn’t there as a hetaera, Kassandra,” Kyra's voice sounded tight. “She helped nurse Nikos and prepare him for burial, she was a legitimate attendee.” She caught Kassandra’s dubious expression out of the corner of her eye. “What was the worst thing they could say? That my lover fucked my sister?”

There was such an edge of bitterness to Kyra’s voice that Kassandra half expected her to follow up with a comment about how they wouldn’t be wrong after all. But Kyra's bitterness was not directed towards Kassandra. Kyra recognised all too well the gloomy hound of misplaced guilt that nipped at Kassandra’s heels. Gods knew she’d felt the sting of its teeth herself from the moment Kassandra had returned from the orphanage with the dreadful news.

Over the last couple of days though that pain had dulled, cauterized by smoldering fury about the whole conspiracy. As they neared the villa Kyra could feel it flaring to life, fueled by witnessing Melina’s grief, the remorse of Rhea and Theis, the sight of the other sickly children, the memory of Savina’s agony.

Stopping far enough away from the guards at the gate that their conversation would be private, she caught Kassandra’s elbow and nodded for her to join her by the side of the path. The route they had followed afforded them a clear view of the terraces of roofs on the outskirts of the city to their left. Over to the right, a gap between the walls of the estate and adjoining trees allowed a glimpse of the glittering sea and neighbouring Delos.

Mindful that the guards could still see them, even though they couldn’t be overheard, Kyra resisted the urge to take Kassandra’s hand. Instead she inched closer until their arms were just touching.

“Look at it all, Kassandra,” she said quietly. “Somewhere out there, either in the city or over on Delos, whoever is responsible for all this misery is sitting, gloating, and laughing at us. They think they’re making fools of us. That they have us on the back foot. And for a while there, they were right. I let them have the advantage. But no more. When they poisoned those children, sickened Savina, murdered Nikos, they went too far. Tomorrow we begin to strike back. They have underestimated you, and they have disregarded me. They have forgotten just who they are dealing with. Tomorrow we remind them.”

Kassandra looked down at her. Kyra’s face was stern, her brows lowered and her eyes intense, and suddenly she was reminded of the stubborn young rebel she’d met long ago. One minute spitting fury and the next making jokes about skewering her nemesis. Had either of them ever imagined this in their futures? And if they had?

“Kyra?” she ventured. “Do you ever? Have you ever wondered… if I hadn’t received your message, or if I’d been captured or killed?” The option she didn’t voice was, “or if the prospect of a sizable bounty hadn’t suited me at the time,” but Kyra knew her well enough for it to remain unspoken.

“Don’t, Kassandra.” Kyra turned to look up at her, but Kassandra’s eyes were fixed on that sliver of sea with its sparkling waves. “I’ve thought about it a lot over the years. But not recently. Not since you’ve been here. Thankfully. Because they were never pleasant imaginings Kassandra. They always ended with my flayed corpse hanging rotting outside the villa.”

She chose to disregard the guards at the gates for once and slipped her hand into Kassandra’s. It was limp for a moment before she felt her return her grip, lacing their fingers together, running the pad of her thumb slowly up and down the back of Kyra’s hand.

“You know, love.” Kyra moved in close against her, hip to hip, keeping her voice low. “It’s only human to have regrets clawing at the door. But it's dangerous folly to encourage them in, to permit them to gnaw at you. If you hadn’t arrived and somehow Podarkes hadn’t killed me? If I’d become Archon anyway, there would still be discontent about it from some quarters. All of this could still have happened. Only I’d be standing here, trying to deal with it, without you. And I don’t want to imagine doing anything without you, not any more.”

Kassandra was silent for a little while, seemingly fixed on that narrow azure strip, but eventually she gave a sigh. “I’m sorry.” She looked down and gave her a wistful smile. “I think this whole thing with Nikos has made me feel melancholy. But you’re right.”

“I frequently am.” Kyra gave her hand a final squeeze. “It’s my job.” She smiled. “And honestly, if you were untouched by the death of a child, you wouldn’t be the woman I love.” She let go of her hand and turned back towards the villa. “Now we should go home I believe, where I can give you the personal attention you seem in desperate need of.”

Kyra had rather assumed that Phoibe would be in the kitchen with Orion when they got inside. The day’s rituals had eaten more deeply into the day than she had anticipated and she expected to find her scrounging up a mid day meal. The kitchen showed no signs of having been used since breakfast though.

“She’s probably lost track of time working on her letters home,” Kassandra suggested as they made their way upstairs. Passing the main living room they decided to check there. Someone had been in at some point over the previous two days, there was a tray of fruit and biscuits on the table beside the jugs of water and wine, but no indication that Phoibe had been in here at all.

“I imagine she’s in her bedroom.” Kassandra sounded distracted as she made her way over to the balcony doors, unclipping her chlamys as she went.

“Would you like to take her something to eat?” Kyra suggested, holding out the parcel of food that Praxos had procured.

Kassandra seemed fully occupied unlatching the doors and throwing them open to admit some light and air “No, you go ahead.” She didn’t look round before stepping out onto the balcony.

Kyra watched sadly as Kassandra braced her arms on the stonework of the balustrade and peered out over the courtyard.

“Very well.” She shifted the parcel to her other hand and turned back to the door. “I want to change out of this robe, while I’m up there. I won’t be long.”

She received a grunt of acknowledgement and a brusque nod of the head. Kyra had been nursing plans for the afternoon, but as she made her way up to the bedrooms, she wondered if it might be better if she could tempt Phoibe away from her correspondence. Perhaps they could eat together out in the yard, or take a ride into the countryside for a while? Something to shift the malaise that had settled over Kassandra.

Tapping on Phoibe’s door, she heard a brief scuffling from inside, followed by the sound of something closing abruptly before the call to come in.

“Oh Kyra, you startled me.” Phoibe appeared to have been busy at work on her letters as Kassandra had speculated. More specifically she seemed to have been drawing something, her fingers were covered in pigment.

“Sorry.” Kyra walked in a little further, and held out the cloth bundle. “Have you eaten yet? Praxos salvaged you some treats from the meal.”

“Oh, right!” Phoibe turned in her seat and took the package in her dusty hands. “Sorry, my hands are dirty, I was trying to mix a colour.” She waggled her fingers by way of demonstration.

“What are you drawing?” Kyra took a step towards the desk.

“Er… dolphins!” Phoibe shuffled her sheets of parchment into a rough pile. “I’ve not started yet though.”

“Ah!” Kyra clasped her hands behind her back and nodded. “You’d rather I didn’t look until you’re finished?”

“Is that all right?” Phoibe looked up from untying the parcel.

“Absolutely!” Kyra smiled. “I understand that many artists don’t care for being watched while they work.” The reddish orange staining Phoibe’s fingers seemed an odd colour choice for dolphins, she thought, but perhaps it was a sunset scene,

“Would you like some of this?” Phoibe indicated the picnic she was arranging on her desk.

“No, thank you sweetheart, I ate at the meal. Praxos swore up and down that those honey and nut things there were only for you anyway,” she gave her a wink.

“Mmm, they’re really good,” Phoibe already had half of one in her mouth. “Did the… I mean was the… did it go all right?” she swallowed. “I mean I know it won’t have gone well but?”

“It went as well as we could expect,” Kyra gave a wry laugh. “Which I think is what you were asking, no?”

Phoibe chewed at another sticky morsel and nodded. “How is Kassandra?” she said at last, licking her thumb clean and giving Kyra a cautious glance. “Is she all right?”

“She’s not feeling great now,” Kyra conceded. “But she’ll get there.”

“When you catch him? The person who did this.”

They stood looking at each other for a long moment before Kyra took a step forward and hunkered down in front of Phoibe.

“We are going to catch them,” she held her gaze. “However long it takes and however hard we have to search. We are going to catch them.” She rested her hands lightly on Phoibe’s knees. “I’m afraid we’ve neglected you a lot over the past few days. I feel badly about that, and I know Kassandra does. We’re going to sort that out too. We could start right now if you like?” She got to her feet and looked out of the window. “It’s a lovely day. Would you like us to go for a ride perhaps when you’ve finished eating? You could bring your food and come eat in the living room with us.”

It was a nice thought, but the absolute last thing that Phoibe wanted right now. She’d just managed to stash the file and the key in her drawer as Kyra knocked. A half dozen more strokes and it would match up perfectly with her diagram. If she could only be sure that the adults would be out of the way for the rest of the day! She was itching to take it down and test it in the door.

“That’s a lovely idea,” she gave a measured sigh. “But if it's all right, I’d really like to finish my letter? They must be wondering how we are, and it will take it ages to get there. And if Kassandra is upset, she’d probably like to spend a bit of time with you, eh? Away from work. Having you to herself. Not as the Archon?” She assumed what she hoped was a persuasive look. Judging by the way Kyra’s expression softened, it seemed that she’d been successful.

“That’s very thoughtful of you Phoibe. You know, Barnabas will be taking Savina over to Delos in a day or two, there are some very swift vessels in our fleet docked there at the moment. He could arrange passage for your letter part way at least if you can get it finished in time?”

“Perfect!” Phoibe agreed brightly. “I’ll send your love shall I?” She cast a hopeful, encouraging glance towards the door.

“All right,” Kyra laughed. “I can tell when I’m under the feet. Yes, do, please. And we’ll see you later?”

“Absolutely!” Phoibe grinned. “I’ll be finished by supper time for sure.” It wasn’t a lie. She’d managed to get a decent way through, a page at a time here and there. Assuming her key worked, it wouldn’t take her long to complete her investigation in the office. She just needed a smooth entry and twenty or so uninterrupted minutes, she reasoned, giving Kyra a little wave as she closed the door behind her. Then the job would be done. She could send her letter and make a start on her search for the mysterious artist.

Leaning back in her chair, she clapped her hands and fished the key out of the drawer, blew on her stinging fingers and settled down to make the final adjustments. But first, another of these little nutty things. Praxos was right. They were delicious.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that money can't buy taste, and Phoibe has an epiphany of sorts.

As she closed the door behind her Kyra frowned thoughtfully. There had been something odd about Phoibe’s behaviour surely? But then again, how well did she really know her yet? And when push came to shove, she was as entitled as anyone else to be behaving oddly under the current circumstances. She should just be grateful that Phoibe seemed to have warmed to her since their arrival, and that she was causing no additional tension when everyone was already on edge.

They weren’t going riding but she still wanted to change out of the formal robes she’d worn for the ceremony, and maybe take a quick wash as well, there was an air of the funeral clinging to her, she was sure.

In their room she quickly folded and hung her himation and unclipped her chiton, stepping out of it as it slipped to the floor. She removed her sandals and picked up the dress, holding it to her nose for a moment. As she’d suspected it smelled of smoky lamps and an unappetizing cocktail of perfumes of various qualities and complexities. Bundling it up she dropped it into the basket. It was already half full of dirty linens and towels, it would be a relief to have the household staff back about their regular duties in the morning.

Checking the ewer she was pleased to find it still more than half full of water that was by now pleasantly tepid. She removed her underwear, balling it up and tossing it into the basket after her chiton. There was no doubt still a lingering hint of sweat and stale perfume caught in her hair, but she was in no mood to deal with washing that just yet. She chose instead to concentrate under her arms, beneath her breasts, between her legs, following the subsequent path of the towel with a dab of her own perfume.

Once this was complete she felt a little better, as though she had somehow managed to wash away the last traces of the tragedy. She decided against putting on clean underwear. The day was warm and they weren’t going to be leaving the villa again today after all.

As she pulled on the light tunic she’d selected, she realised that she was still wearing the wreath of laurel that she’d woven herself before they left. It was by no means as elegant as the ones Savina created each morning, but a good deal less ostentatious than Aegeus’ efforts. As she held it in her hand she was reminded of her first visit to the villa after the successful rebellion.

_Certain that it was over, that they were free at last, a trickle of citizens had begun to approach. Some had come to perform the grim task of reclaiming the bodies of their loved ones, either lost in the recent fighting, or butchered by Podarkes and hung about the estate like macabre decorations. The next wave of visitors though had more mercenary motives and Kyra had been obliged to set guards at all the entrances to prevent looting._

_As she and Praxos had made their way through the lavishly furnished rooms, trying to take stock of what could be sold to raise funds for the renovation and repair of the islands, they had come to the area where Kassandra had brought down the tyrant himself. Recognising where they were, Praxos tried to prevent Kyra from entering, but she was adamant, striding in and looking about, surveying the huge bloodstain stiffening the expensive rug. As she turned to leave, her foot caught something, sending it sliding under a chair. Praxos bent to retrieve it. _

_“No wonder he had such a filthy temper all the damned time,” he muttered, examining it. “This thing would be enough to give Atlas a headache.” He held it out to her._

_Kyra could still remember the shocking weight of it in her hands. Podarkes’ laurel wreath. The leaves modelled from thick sheets of pure gold, dark berries fashioned from rare wood, and feathery flowers of precious stone._

_“This is the ugliest thing I have ever seen.” She turned it around, marveling at the vulgar mockery of nature._

_“It’ll pay for a hell of a lot of supplies though.” He gave a wry smirk. “Unless you want to wear it yourself? It will need resizing of course. Your head isn’t half so big.”_

_“Even if I were the Archon, I would not be caught dead in this monstrosity.” She grimaced, already seeing the stone and timber it could purchase for repairs, the restitution it could fund for those who had lost their livelihoods to corruption._

_“If?” Praxos made a show of examining his thumbnail. “And who else is going to be a likely candidate?”_

_Kyra didn’t answer. The sun bled in through the shutters, catching the polished leaves in her hand and casting golden reflections on her face._

_“Those two Spartans are no longer in the picture.” He saw her shoot a furious glance in his direction, but shrugged dismissively. “I’m a bit surprised that thing didn't find its way into your handsome Misthios’ loot sack to be quite honest.”_

_To her surprise Kyra had found herself leaping to Kassandra’s defense. “That’s unfair Praxos. She took only what she was promised. We wouldn’t be standing here now if she hadn’t come to our aid. And she’s not my Misthios!” she finished sharply._

_“Not any more!” He cast a final appraising look around the room. “At least she managed not to get any blood on the drapes there. I know we can find a buyer for those.”_

_Kyra sighed and let her hands fall to her sides, the ugly wreath hitting her knee hard. “There is so much here, Praxos. So much vulgar luxury. Gods! How are we going to keep track of it all. The last thing we need now is for opportunists to come along and make a killing while we’re trying to recover the Islands’ fortunes. We need someone to help us record all this. Make note of who is owed what.” She could feel a headache brewing at the back of her skull._

_“You know that terrified skeleton of a fellow that we found in the cells?” Praxos held open the door for her and stood aside to let her pass._

_“The poor soul who was talking to the dead rat?” Kyra grimaced._

_“The very one.” He closed the door behind him and fished a huge handkerchief from his belt. Taking the wreath from her hand he began to wrap it in the cloth. “Best not to carry this around in plain sight,” he explained. “Anyway, I was talking to one of the stall holders from the agora? Turns out the rat puppeteer had quite a head for figures back in the day. If he’s not been driven stark, staring mad he could be very useful to us.”_

_The next day Kyra had been carried in triumph on the shoulders of the citizens, back to the leader’s house where they had demanded she become their Archon. Praxos was right. There was no other conceivable candidate. When they had offered to present her with a more elegant gold wreath as a mark of her position, she had declined, cutting a thin young branch from one of the laurel bushes and winding it into a rough circlet. She would wear nothing more, she swore._

True to her word she had worn nothing but fresh laurels from that day forward. Podarkes’ ugly crown was broken up and sold, along with the most ostentatious furnishings from the villa. Standing naked now before her dressing table she looked down at today’s wreath. The leaves were still fresh and glossy, the stems still supple.

She had not insisted on this position for herself. The people had demanded it. Had she turned it down there would have been chaos and violence in the power vacuum following the rebellion.

Then, they had hoisted her aloft on their shoulders, carried her through the streets, chanting her name. Now, they snickered behind their hands at vulgar pictures of her and her lover, accusing her of courting the gods’ displeasure. Not all of them, a voice at the back of her mind whispered soothingly. Not even most of them.

“Enough though!” She muttered to herself, swallowing the building anger she could feel, bubbling and welling in her chest. She crushed the crisp leaves in her fist and their clean medicinal scent seemed to fill the entire room.

Whoever was behind this, she was going to find them. They thought to lurk in the shadows and drive the people to revolt with their puerile gossip? She would find them and drag them blinking into the light. They would regret ever using Savina and the orphans as disposable pieces in their wicked game. They would regret tossing aside Nikos’ life as though it had meant nothing. And they would rue the day they had chosen to plot in the dark rather than confronting her face to face like a genuine challenger.

She flung the crushed wreath on top of the laundry. Let its scent go to work there she thought, pulling on her tunic and striding barefoot out of the room.

Kyra wasn’t surprised to find Kassandra standing on the balcony with a cup of wine in her hand, but she was surprised to see her barefoot, in just her tunic. Apart from a handful of particularly heated sexual encounters, Kyra had never known Kassandra to thoughtlessly discard her weapons and armour, but here it was piled haphazardly on one of the couches.

Most startling of all was the simple silver end cap she could see poking out between bracers and greaves. Kassandra never treated her grandfather’s spear with anything less than reverence, and yet here it was, tossed on the couch amid a pile of abandoned armour.

Kyra turned to the balcony. Kassandra still had her back to her and though she was certainly aware of Kyra’s presence she hadn’t spoken or in any way acknowledged her yet.

As Kyra watched, Kassandra lifted the cup and tossed back its contents in one draft, immediately refilling it from the jug in her other hand. She repeated the motion as Kyra padded over to her. She recognised the actions of someone drinking deliberately to get drunk. Dionysius knew she’d done it often enough herself over the years. She allowed Kassandra to gulp back one more cupful and then stepped close behind her and reached around to stay her hand.

“Don’t, Kassandra.” She rested her cheek between her shoulder blades. “I know you feel like you need to right now. But you don’t want to forget this.” She eased the cup from Kassandra’s fingers and placed it on the balustrade. “You’ll need this pain to fuel the anger that’s going to help us catch these murderers.”

There was no response for a moment and then she felt Kassandra slump forward a little, her shoulders drooping. The crash of the half full jug on the floor startled Kyra and she felt the splash of tepid liquid on her feet. Kassandra was leaning forward, hands braced on the stonework, head low.

“I didn’t even hunt those fucking wolves for him,” she said quietly. “I promised those children that I would protect them. And I didn’t even get round to hunting some fucking wolves. I could have done it before we left for Kephallonia. How long would it have taken me, Kyra, really? But I was so wrapped up in the two of us going to see my family, in the idea of us bringing Phoibe back with us. I didn’t even think about the fucking wolves. ”

Kyra took hold of her upper arms and attempted to turn her but Kassandra was immobile, her knuckles pale as she gripped the balustrade. The splits from yesterday were almost knitted, Kyra observed. She abandoned her attempt to turn Kassandra and settled for stroking her back soothingly.

“You had no way of knowing this was going to happen, love. No one saw this coming. We thought we were just going to have to deal with those ridiculous pictures. And you were right, Kassandra, they _are_ ridiculous.”

Kassandra shook her head vigorously. “No, Kyra. I was wrong about that as well. I thought they were ridiculous because they didn’t upset _me_ in any way. I should have thought about the impact they would have on you. I grew up in a household where sex was business. A house full of women. Once I started having sex, it was just a fact of life. I wasn’t embarrassed about it. So I thought we should just laugh off those pictures. I thought we _could_ laugh off those pictures. I’m so sorry, Kyra.”

Kyra continued to rub Kassandra’s back, watching as a few fat drops fell from her chin, darkening the stone where they hit. Dropping her gaze lower, Kyra saw that the half jug of wine had spread across the tiles and was trickling over the edge of the balcony.

“Kassandra?” she soothed, stepping carefully alongside her, watching out for the shards of pottery. “Don’t be, it -”

“I thought he’d get frustrated if we didn’t respond, I thought we’d prod him to make a mistake!” Kassandra looked up suddenly, her face streaked with tears. “But I imagined some obscene mural on the temple wall. Not that he’d try and poison the entire orphanage. Not that a child would die!”

“Of course you didn’t.” Kyra stroked her face. “None of us imagined that, because none of us are monsters who would murder children.”

“Well perhaps you should consider adding an utter bastard to your staff.” Kassandra laughed bitterly. “Then we aren’t caught on the hop like this again! And I should learn to stop making promises to children.”

“Don’t now Kassandra.” Kyra shook her head. “Self pity is an unattractive emotion, even on you. You have every right to feel sad, to grieve, to get angry. But not to blame yourself for all of this.” She pried Kassandra’s hand off the balustrade and taking hold of it, eased her round to face her. She resisted initially before turning fully to take Kyra’s hands, looking down sadly at their interlaced fingers.

“Come Kassandra.” Kyra tugged lightly, urging her back inside. “Come and sit with me. We have the place to ourselves, no one is going to come barging in talking about funeral expenses.”

“Phoibe?” Kassandra glanced around as they sat down next to each other.

“I asked her if she wanted to do something later, go riding perhaps, but she’s immersed in her letter. She wants to take it to the dock tomorrow and give it to Barnabas.”

Kassandra gave a weary sigh and leaned forward, elbows on knees burying her face in her hands. “This is not what I had in mind when I asked her to come live with us.” Her voice was muffled. “Not at all.”

“It’s not what either of us had in mind… for anyone, quite frankly. Here.” Kyra took hold of Kassandra’s shoulder and eased her backwards against the couch, before slipping an arm across her hips and resting her head against Kassandra’s chest.

There were a few moments of hesitation and then she felt Kassandra’s arm loop about her back, drawing her close and the pressure of her cheek resting against the top of her head. All was quiet apart from bright birdsong out in the courtyard and the occasional crisp footsteps of the guards about their patrols.

Kyra closed her eyes and concentrated on the reassuring physicality of Kassandra. The heat of her body, the hitching rise and fall of her chest, the slowing drum beat of her heart. As she focused on their rhythms she allowed the harrowing events of the past few days to drift away. They would be easy enough to recall later, she knew that without a doubt. Tomorrow they would be back, lurid and painful, but for now there was just the peace of the room and the comfort of Kassandra’s embrace. She smelled of sweat and leather, the oil she used to condition the cords and straps, and… Kyra took a deep breath. Yes, there was a hint of her own perfume. Kassandra must have applied a little before they left that morning. She found she was touched by the gesture and nuzzled in more tightly.

All would be well. Together they were greater than the sum of their parts, and there was no way this murderous coward would be able to best them. No, there was _one_ way, she corrected herself. If he, or they, managed to drive a wedge between them, managed somehow to pry them apart. She knew that there had been suspicion even in her own household about the wisdom of her relationship with Kassandra. Praxos had certainly made his feelings known at first, and his feelings were that Kassandra was a liability. He had softened though, eventually seeing what Kyra had long come to accept. That she was stronger, more stable, content, when she was with Kassandra.

And yet she had almost let it happen. She’d been so embarrassed by those puerile pictures that she’d begun to edge away from her. She’d let that coward into their bedroom, helped him do his dirty work. What a fool she’d been.

“What are you doing, love?” Kassandra’s voice, soft and hesitant, drew her out of her reverie and she realised with some surprise that her hand had slipped from Kassandra’s hip to her leg and she was running her fingers absently up and down her inner thigh.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She stopped midway, raising her head to meet Kassandra’s eyes. She seemed cautiously amused.

“Don’t apologise. I just wondered if you were doing it on purpose?”

“I am _now_.” Kyra smiled archly, resuming her action, more deliberately now, pressing firmly at the hard muscle of Kassandra's thigh as she stretched up to kiss below her ear. “Would you prefer it if I stopped?”

Kassandra shivered as warm lips brushed behind her ear and spoke without thinking. “I’d rather you stopped now than in ten minutes or so when it will be much more diffi -” She realised what she was saying and her face contorted into a remorseful grimace. “Oh gods, Kyra. I’m so sorry, love. I had no right to say that.”

“You did. A little bit.” Kyra had flinched inwardly at the words, but managed to conceal it. “I’ve left you hanging far too often over the past few days.”

“No.” Kassandra drew back, looking serious. “That’s not how it works. You were right. What you said back on Kephallonia? You were right.”

“I said a lot of things on Kephallonia.” Kyra rested her head against Kassandra’s chest. “And I’m pretty certain that not all of them were right.”

“That night, in Phoibe’s room.”

“Ah!” Kyra raised her eyebrows slowly. “Yes. Well I suppose current events provide a better reason for abstinence.”

“There doesn’t have to be a reason, Kyra. Not some big external reason. If you’re tired, or unwell, or just not in the mood, that’s reason enough. You don’t have to provide me with some excuse. If you just don’t want it, that’s enough.”

Kyra sat up, fixed Kassandra with a fond look and reached out to trace the lines of her cheek and jaw. “You know that the exact same thing is true for you. Don’t you?” She tilted her head quizzically. “If you don’t want this now, that’s all right. We can just sit and talk. We can lie here and take a nap. Whatever you want instead.”

Kassandra took a shaky breath and raised her eyes to the ceiling for a moment. “It’s not that, love. It truly is not that. I just…” She paused and lowered her eyes to Kyra’s, looking serious. “I… well I don’t want you to do this just to make me feel better, because you think I’m upset. You don’t have to do that. I’d rather you didn’t, in fact.”

“Kassandra!” Kyra’s voice was soft, slightly reproachful. “You _are_ upset. And so am I.” She got up and turned to face her, before sitting back down, straddling Kassandra’s lap, smiling briefly at the little gasp she gave, as Kyra’s warm silky skin touched her thighs. “But, Kassandra of Sparta, the Hound of the Aegean! Did you really think I was going to have sex with you out of pity?!”

“Maybe not… not pity so much as… sympathy perhaps?” She looked sheepish.

“A sympathy fuck?” Kyra gave a soft huff of disbelieving laughter. “I doubt that has ever happened to you, and it's not going to start with me, love. I know that you’re upset, and so am I. You are grieving and feeling guilty. I’ve burned that out with anger. I’m furious now, Kassandra.” The calm of her voice belied her words as she reached up and stroked her fingertips across the sweep of Kassandra’s brow, down her cheek, along the sharp line of her jaw.

“I’m furious that after all we’ve done here, how hard we fought, how tirelessly we all work, that some cowardly worm skulking in the shadows should use children's lives as pieces in their sick game. And, you know what else I’m incandescent about?” She cocked her eyebrow and waited for the slight shake of Kassandra’s head that told her to continue.

“Those leering fools at the dock. They will never in their lives have a woman like you. Or like me for that matter. And they certainly couldn’t afford Nike. Drunkenly pleasuring themselves over dirty pictures is the most exciting thing that’s ever likely to happen to them. And yet I concerned myself with their opinions. I have Kassandra of Sparta in my bed and I pushed her aside because I was worried about what the town idiots would think.”

“Kyra -” Kassandra began to protest.

“No, Kassandra.” Kyra placed a finger against her lips to stop her. “I was a fool. I turned away from you just when we needed each other the most. I let this monster drive a wedge between us, and I’m so sorry.” She leaned forward to kiss Kassandra, softly at first, but with growing intensity.

Kyra’s mouth tasted of honey and the expensive spiced wine that Korax had sent for the funeral feast and Kassandra’s hands found their way to her hips before she could stop them. How much wine had Kyra drunk while Kassandra had been brooding by the orphanage door? Even as desire clenched like a fist deep in her belly, a voice at the back of Kassandra’s mind urged caution, reminding her of recent occasions that had begun like this, only to end abruptly in tears and needless apology.

Kyra sensed her hesitation and broke the kiss, leaning back just enough to meet her eyes. “What is it Kassandra? I thought that you wanted this. That you needed it even? Am I wrong?”

Kassandra swallowed hard, all too aware of the warmth of Kyra’s breath against her cheek, the suggestive movement of her hips straddling her thighs, the thrumming of her own blood in her ears.

“Kyra, love, no, you’re not wrong, far from it. I just… I just need to be sure.” She ran her hands up to the small of Kyra’s back, feeling the reflexive twitch of firm muscle beneath her fingers. “I don’t want you to regret this later. I don’t ever want you to regret this, us. But oh gods, I want you.”

Kyra was silent for a few moments, studying Kassandra’s expression, her concerned frown and her desire darkened eyes.

“You know what I _do_ regret Kassandra?” she said at last. “I regret that I needed you last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, I wanted you and needed you and I was afraid to let you in. That after we fought so long and hard to be here together, to be a couple, I let myself get so easily rattled. That’s what I regret. But not any more. Now come, no more hesitation.”

She reached down between them, fumbling for the hem of Kassandra’s tunic, struggling to move it in their current position. It took very little effort on Kassandra’s part to raise her hips, even with Kyra straddling her, helping her to drag the fabric up past her waist and then over her shoulders and off. The movement had caught Kyra’s short chiton, dragging it up over her hips and Kassandra gave a sudden gasp of pleasure as Kyra settled back down onto her thighs and she felt that she was naked beneath it.

Kyra smiled knowingly and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I thought I would save you a little work, my love.”

“It’s not work if you’re enjoying it,” Kassandra replied huskily, running her hands up over the curve of Kyra’s ass, catching hold of the soft fabric of her robe and sliding it up and off her body, tossing it aside to join her own.

Feeling Kassandra’s strong hands at her back, Kyra leaned into their touch, stretching up to run her fingers through her own hair, performing for her. The smell of the oil Kyra had used, the perfume she’d applied, the warm animal musk of her arousal all flowed together, filling Kassandra’s nose and mouth with every breath. Her senses were full of Kyra now, the scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, her lithe body artfully displayed for her. It all strained at her self control. The urge to take hold of Kyra’s hips, flip their positions and press her against the soft cushions, to devour her with fingers and tongue was almost overwhelming. And yet still she held back.

“Love?” Kyra queried, lowering her arms. Keeping her eyes fixed on Kassandra’s she ran her fingers across her own collarbones, slow and teasing, before sliding down and cupping her breasts, giving Kassandra a cautious smile. “You still seem unsure?” She nipped at her lip, lowering her glance seductively as she teased her nipples, excited more by performing for Kassandra than by the pressure of her fingers. Her reward was a soft, yearning groan from Kassandra, an instinctive twitch of her hips, and looking up she saw those rich amber eyes locked on the actions of Kyra’s fingers.

If only those who gossiped in scandalized tones about the Misthios’ lecherous womanizing could see her as she really was, Kyra looked at her fondly. She believed she recognized the reason for Kassandra’s apparent reluctance.

“You’re still afraid that I’m not sure about this?” She rolled her hips slowly against Kassandra’s naked thighs, giving her a taste of the slippery warmth that awaited, smiling as Kassandra involuntarily bucked her hips up against her. “You’re wondering how many cups of that very excellent wine did I drink at the meal? Two, no more. Not nearly enough for me to not know what I’m doing here. You’re concerned that we’ll start,” she moved against her more firmly, establishing a rhythm, seeing Kassandra’s expression begin to fog with lust, “that I’ll be wet and willing one moment, then stop and about face? You’re afraid that this time you won’t be able to stop? That I’ll time it all wrong and you won’t be able to get back in control? That you’ll do something you’ll regret?”

The hesitant, awkward look Kassandra gave her was sufficient confirmation. Kyra laughed softly, leaning forward and snaking her arms about her shoulders. “Oh Kassandra.” She gently pulled her head forward, stroking Kassandra’s hair as she did so, encouraging her to rest against the soft, warm flesh of her breasts. After a moment or two of resistance she felt Kassandra relax, heard her release a shuddering breath and felt her wrap her arms around Kyra’s waist, pulling her close, nuzzling tenderly against her. “You would never. You know that, surely? But -” she stopped and sat upright. “I have an idea that might help you relax.” She sought for and found the end of Kassandra’s breast band and began to untuck it. “But only if you’re willing?”

Phoibe gave a sharp, sibilant exclamation as a minute filing of metal slid under her thumbnail.

“Godsdammit!” She dropped key and file on the table and sucked fiercely on her thumb, eventually drawing out the barely visible fragment and a mouthful of blood. The very last stroke of the file too, she grumbled mentally, fishing out her handkerchief and spitting the bright scarlet glob into it. Wiping her lips she peered intently at the fine fabric and eventually spotted the tiny offender. She licked her fingertip and picked it up, examining it irritably. Such an insignificant thing to cause so much discomfort. Some cryptic comment from Clio months ago drifted across the back of her mind, too far away and hazy to pin down now.

She brushed her finger on the skirt of her tunic, wadded up the handkerchief and tossed it into the laundry and turned her attention to the key. Holding her breath she placed it on the papyrus template that she’d drawn. It fitted perfectly.

“Not before bloody time,” she muttered, rubbing her tingling fingers. If she’d known how much work it was going to be, she might have contented herself with unfettered access to the storage room. But it was done now. She held it up against the light. The edges were a bit burred here and there, but it was the best she could do with the tool available. Now, so long as her memory hadn’t played her false when she was trying to recall the outline of Aegeus’ office key, her plan was complete.

She went to wash her hands, holding her tingling fingers under the cool surface for a minute as she considered what, if anything, she needed to take with her. She eyed the small tablet on her desk and considered slipping it into her pocket in case she needed to take notes about what she uncovered. Drying her hands, she decided against it, there was ample papyrus and ink where she was going.

At some point during the morning Orion had begun scratching and whining to go out. On any other day Phoibe would have been disappointed that he hadn’t returned. But as she slipped the key into her pocket and left her bedroom she was relieved that there was one less thing to keep an eye and an ear on.

Passing Kassandra’s bedroom she paused, lips pursed thoughtfully. Kyra and Kassandra were definitely on the premises, and as Phoibe had turned down the offer of what amounted to family time, they were as likely to be in the bedroom as anywhere else.

She pressed her ear to the door and listened carefully. Not a sound. Kassandra wasn’t particularly quiet in bed unless she was asleep. But they had been up hours before dawn, and they had been much longer at the perideipnon than Phoibe had expected, they must be tired.

As carefully as she could, Phoibe turned the handle and eased the door open just enough to peep in. Not only was the bed untouched but Kassandra’s uniform armour was not on the rack. That was unfortunate, she thought, closing the door and heading for the stairs. That had to mean that she was still up and about around the villa somewhere.

Making her way downstairs Phoibe pondered the options. There were three. They hadn’t eaten at the feast and were in the kitchen, they were talking in the main room, or… and this was the one she didn’t want to contemplate… Kyra had decided that enough was enough and had taken to the office to start work early.

“Oh please, please, please, don’t be in the office,” she muttered under her breath as she reached the landing. Her fingers twinged at the thought of all that work gone to waste. She was just a short distance away from the living room though, easy enough to check.

At the door she once again pressed her ear to smooth warm wood and listened for a moment. Hearing nothing her heart sank a little. Even if they were in the kitchen that was way too close to the office for comfort. As well as eyes like a hawk, Kassandra also had the ears of a bat and the feet of a cat. Phoibe chuckled a little at the image she’d conjured up for herself. There’d be nothing funny about getting caught breaking in though.

She was about to head for the stairs when it occurred to her that, just because there was no noise from the room, it didn’t mean it was unoccupied. She’d caught Kassandra “resting her eyes” on a couch any number of times back at Selene’s. Including one memorable occasion when she’d dozed off while mending a set of reins and she and Clio had used one to tie her ankle to the table leg, before going into the kitchen and calling for help. The ensuing chaos had been hilarious, right up to the point where Selene came downstairs and eyed the scattered dishes, the broken jug and the olives covering the length and breadth of the floor.

Quietly and cautiously Phoibe eased open the door and peered in. Her initial thought was that she’d been right. Kassandra did seem to be asleep on the couch. Her head was back, the great span of her arms stretched out from one end of the back rest to the other, her long legs bent, feet braced on the table. The thought lasted no more than a fraction of a second.

In all the time she’d known her, Phoibe had never caught Kassandra asleep on a couch in the middle of the afternoon, stark naked. In her underwear a handful of times certainly. But now Phoibe noticed that Kassandra’s discarded underwear had been used to tie her wrists to the decorative finials on the ends of the backrest.

Phoibe’s brows twisted into a knot of confusion. Why would you, no, _how_ would you even do that? One hand certainly, but how in Hades would you bind the second? Unless? Had someone somehow overpowered her and -

Before Phoibe could do something incredibly rash, Kassandra lifted her head from the backrest, looking down towards her lap, grimacing.

“Kyra!” Her voice sounded husky and strained. “Kyra, please?”

To Phoibe’s astonishment Kyra’s head appeared from between Kassandra’s thighs. She took a startled little step back till she was totally out of the room, the door almost closed. Staring with eyes and mouth equally wide, she watched as Kyra stretched up, leaning on Kassandra’s hips. She’d been hidden by her powerful thighs and the angle of the table when Phoibe had originally peered in. Now she was kneeling upright, hair tousled, face flushed, as she rested her glistening chin on the hard plane of Kassandra’s belly.

“Please _what_, my love?”

“Please… Don’t…” Kassandra sounded desperate and Phoibe felt a nervous chill run down her neck.

“Don’t _what_, my handsome misthios?” Kyra stretched up to lick a few drops of sweat from the hollow of Kassandra’s throat. That Kyra was naked, surprised Phoibe even more. “Give me your words, my love.”

“Gods, please, please don’t stop!” Kassandra strained forward, the muscles of her shoulders and arms flexing and tensing as she sought Kyra’s mouth.

“Oh Kassandra, love, not till you beg me to.” Kyra kissed her hard and deep before sinking back down onto her heels.

What in Hades! Phoibe inched backwards, closing the door behind her, before turning and leaning back against it. Clearly it was some sort of sex thing, and clearly Kassandra was entirely on board with it. But why in the name of Aphrodite would you want your hands tied to the couch? Phoibe blinked slowly, once, twice, three times. While Kyra did… _that _! She definitely owed Clio an apology in her letter, because despite Phoibe’s initial suspicions, it appeared that she hadn’t been pulling her leg about certain activities.

A pragmatic voice in the back of her mind pointed out that she was wasting time. Shaking her head to try and dispel the confusing images swimming around in there, she made for the stairs. Whatever the game was that they were playing, it looked like it was going to keep them occupied for a while. If she was, quite literally, tied up with Kyra, then Kassandra was highly unlikely to come ambling drowsily down to the kitchen scouting for food. And Kyra, the more reserved of the two would certainly want to dress and clean up before coming downstairs, even if she did tire of putting Kassandra in her place and -

Phoibe stopped halfway down the stairs, her foot hovering over the smooth marble of the next step down. Her mind was suddenly filled with the image of that verdant clearing beside the pool on Kephallonia. Of Kassandra dropping to her knees before a wet and naked Kyra. Of her sprawling on her back and allowing Kyra to straddle her like a victor.

“Oh bugger!” She sat down hard on the cold marble and buried her face in her hands, feeling the hot blush warming her cheeks. Kassandra had awkwardly dismissed it as a game of some sort, that night in the cave. It had been a game all right! No wonder poor Kassandra had almost choked on her own tongue trying to explain.

_“I know she’s a sorceress.”_ Phoibe heard her own voice ringing through her mind. Those ridiculous words that she’d barked so confidently that night. “Oh gods,” she muttered into her hands. “What an idiot.” Gods, how Clio would laugh. Phoibe suddenly, painfully wished that she and Selene could be here, with their comforting mix of serene reassurance and ribald good humour.

She gave a sniff and rubbed her face with her hands. Well they weren’t here. And if wishes were horses then beggars would ride. She had work to do, and whatever kind of game Kyra and Kassandra were playing up there, it wouldn’t last forever. Frowning determinedly she got to her feet and descended the final steps.

The villa was quiet as the grave as she padded along the hallway to the office door. Swallowing hard and wiping her hands on the skirt of her tunic she had a sudden thought. Reaching out, she took hold of the handle and gave an experimental twist. Nothing happened, and she found that she was oddly pleased. After all her work it would have been a poke in the eye for the door to be simply unlocked today. Unless her key didn’t work of course, she thought grimly, pulling it from her pocket and holding it up for final inspection.

She supposed that Hermes was the god she should be invoking for her current venture. He was something of a stranger to her, but she mumbled a basic prayer as she introduced key to lock.

It slipped in as smoothly as warm honey.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe makes a discovery... and soup.

There was no reason to be feeling smug about it, she supposed. After all, she hadn’t altered the key in such a way that it would no longer fit the hole. It was the next stage that counted.

Taking a deep breath she gripped the key firmly and started to twist. It moved smoothly and silkily through a quarter revolution and her heart sang. Moments later both key and heart stopped, equally abruptly.

“No, no, no!” All that hard work and the bloody thing didn’t fit. She should have brought the file down with her. And what good would that be, she asked herself? The key had fitted her template perfectly. How would she know which bit, or bits, needed tweaking?

Phoibe thumped her head against the door, disappointment thickening her throat. She should remember this the next time Aegeus was criticizing the local craftsmen.

“Now I’ve got _no_ bloody keys.” She looked down at the shaft protruding tauntingly from the keyhole. “No supply room, no office. Aegeus is going to think I’m a careless idiot. Oh well, chalk it up to experie -”

Phoibe stopped mid thought, a smile creeping across her face. “Chalk!” she whispered to herself. She could chalk the key, turn it hard in the lock and perhaps the dust would be rubbed away from the parts that needed more work.

She was about to remove the key when she wondered if her plan might work on the discoloured surface of the metal, without chalk. It would be worth a try at any rate. She had nothing to lose. Gripping firmly, sleeving the shaft of the key in her palm she twisted as hard as she could. To her surprise there was a grating sensation and the key turned abruptly, her knuckles scraped against the door handle and a satisfying click told her that Kassandra was right, and that sometimes brute force _could_ win the day.

Sucking her grazed knuckles, she eased the key out of the lock and examined it closely. A couple of bright areas showed where a few stubborn burrs had been scraped aside by the mechanism. Her template had been good. Better tools and she’d have done it first time, she beamed proudly.

It was a pity that she couldn’t share her excitement. “That is the burden of the master spy!” she grinned, opening the door and stepping into the office.

Once inside, with the door closed quietly behind her, Phoibe experienced a moment's hesitation. It had taken her so long to get in, that it barely seemed believable she was standing here.

She had been concerned that it would be too dim to make out the details of the mysterious papers and that she might have to light lamps to make up for the fact that she couldn’t open the doors. There was a decent amount of illumination though. Easily enough for her to be able to study whatever was in that cupboard. The light was coming in through a row of horizontal slots at the top of the walls, much too narrow to allow anyone to get in or out, but perfectly adequate for ventilation and light.

Phoibe was ambling over to the desk, casting her eye about the room, admiring its elegance now that she had the opportunity to do so at her leisure, when she stopped mid step. That had almost been a beginner’s error, she smiled, turning back to the door. The last thing she needed was for Kyra to just come wandering in whilst Phoibe was ferreting through her desk. This time the key turned perfectly in the lock and she couldn’t resist a little smirk of satisfaction as she slipped it back into her pocket.

Now she would have ample warning if anyone did try and come in. Enough time to make a quick exit out through the terrace doors at least. Though she would leave a whole host of suspicious evidence in her wake of course. Still, she clapped her hands, the more time she spent anticipating trouble, the more time things had to come to some sort of climax upstairs, and the more likely she was to get interrupted. It was time to find those papers.

This time she didn’t make a beeline for Kyra’s chair. Instead she crouched down beside it and rattled the faulty door. She didn’t imagine that Aegeus had had the time to summon the tradesman to mend it yet, not given the swelling chaos of the past few days. It was so loose that she fancied a sharp pull would be enough to do it, but that might well take a chunk of the frame along with it.

The knife she had used last time was still there, so she simply repeated her previous action, sliding the blade down and twisting sharply. The door swung open, and to Phoibe’s relief the folders were still sitting there. Sickness and death had no doubt so occupied everyone’s attention that they’d barely remembered about them.

She gathered them carefully and got to her feet. Placing the folders on the table Phoibe climbed into Kyra’s chair and surveyed the desk. Over to one side was a pile of tablets, all of them blank. That was very convenient. She leaned over and retrieved one, selected a stylus from the pot beside them and sat back.

Just like she would before diving into a particularly delicious meal, Phoibe took a few moments to savour the anticipation. What was she about to discover? At first she’d thought it would be salacious pictures, judging by what Cymone had said. But Kassandra’s response to the paper that the guard gave her at the docks had made her reconsider. Besides, that wouldn’t unseat a beloved Archon. It had to be something else. Maps of Silver Island trade routes addressed to competitors? Plans of their fleet with the vessels’ weaknesses indicated? Alleged stashes of loot from the time of the rebellion?

Her fingers tingled again, but with eagerness this time. She was about to untie the first folder when she had a quick thought and took a few moments to study the covers of each one. Whoever had selected the papyrus had done so with an eye to economy, the sheets were flawed, rejects from the villa supplies no doubt.

“I bet Aegeus picked them,” she mused aloud. The topmost one had a discoloured streak across it, the one below had a tear on one corner. “Right, stain on top, tear in the middle.” The order memorized for when she returned them to the cupboard, she untied the first one. “Maps!” she predicted, grinning. “Whatever it is, it's not going to be -” She flipped open the cover.

“Pictures of naked women! You’re kidding me. After all that!” Scarcely able to believe it she hastily flicked through a few sheets. “Shit!” She slammed the cover closed again. Perhaps the more exciting material was in the other folders? Quickly untying them, she took a cursory peep inside. “Gods damn it!” Phoibe threw herself back in the chair, scowling in frustration.

She’d spent hours, almost literally working her fingers to the bone, and for what? A few dirty pictures. She sat sulkily kicking her heels, arms crossed, glaring at the door, until a quiet voice at the back of her mind asked a pertinent question.

“Why does Kyra have them locked in her desk?”

Phoibe could imagine Kassandra collecting them for “personal use”. For all her blushing and stammering the other night, Phoibe knew perfectly well that not only was Kassandra aware of Clio’s collection, but she was familiar enough with its contents to have favourites. Clio had been obliging enough to point out a couple during their educational talk. It was one thing a hetaera having a pornography collection though. That was business. But why in Hades would the Archon have this gathered in folders and kept in her desk?

It made no sense, surely? Phoibe tried her best to conjure up an image of Kyra and Kassandra perusing them together, but despite what she’d blundered into upstairs, she just couldn’t picture it.

_Clio_ and Kassandra? Easy! In fact there was the image right now! She shook her head brusquely to dislodge it.

Kyra though? No! And even if she was wrong. Why here? What use was it down here in her office? There was every likelihood that Kassandra had initiated amorous activity on any number of flat surfaces around the villa, but Kyra took her Archon duties tremendously seriously. There was no way they would -

Phoibe slid off the chair quickly and viewed it with a suspicious eye. They wouldn’t. Would they? Well Kassandra almost certainly would. But not Kyra? No. No, the pictures weren’t here for that! So why _were_ they here? She glanced at the pile of folders. There had to be something about them that made them important. Otherwise, why would Kyra be concerning herself over something so trivial?

As she climbed back on the chair her elbow caught something on the desk and she heard a sliding, skittering noise and turned just in time to see the folders teetering on the very edge. She reached out a fraction of a second too late and watched in dismay as they fell off the desk, scattering their contents as they went.

“Oh… bugger…” She surveyed the scene with a dismal expression. That had properly put the rat in the granary now. She’d made a point of memorizing the order the folders had been stacked in, but she had no idea which pictures had been in which folder.

Perhaps? She eyed the scattered sheets. They’d sort of vaguely fallen in different swathes… sort of. Maybe if she carefully scooped them back up as they’d landed she’d get the bulk of them back where they belonged. It was a long shot. But one thing was for sure. She couldn’t just leave them there. Perhaps Kyra wouldn’t have cause to look at the pictures again, and wouldn’t realise they’d been tampered with.

Or perhaps there was some sort of thematic connection for each folder. Looking down on the display of arms and legs and other anatomical parts, she could see that they all seemed to be of women. Was that a surprise… or not? Not for Kassandra obviously. She seemed completely oblivious to naked men, unless they were rough housing Europa like that one-eyed fellow that time. And even then, his lack of clothing seemed to be the last thing on her mind. But Kyra had sounded warmly appreciative of Savina’s husband the other day. Perhaps her tastes were a little more wide ranging?

None of this speculation was getting the bloody papyri back in their folders, she sighed, sliding off the chair and trying to avoid standing on anything. At first glance she wondered if she might have been correct in her speculation about themes. Some of the sheets depicted just one woman. They’d be Kassandra’s favourites, if Clio had been telling the truth, and she seemed to have been so far. There was a scattering of pictures of couples and there were definitely some with three or more.

Phoibe scratched the back of her neck thoughtfully. Should she go by subject matter? She crouched down on her haunches. Some of the sheets hadn’t quite fallen out of their respective folders. That was helpful. She’d slide those back inside and see what they had in common. The thought was no sooner formed than Phoibe stopped, a drawing in her hand.

Oh! She turned it around to get a better look. Well that explained a lot.

It was quite easy to draw a recognisable picture of Kassandra, she decided, sitting back on her heels. The muscular physique was one thing, the distinctive braid, the scars. She’d managed it herself on a cake wrapper with a charred stick before they’d even officially met.

This was very good though, she reluctantly admitted. The anatomy was sound, the posture natural. The artist had only depicted her obvious scars of course. Presumably they’d only ever seen her in armour. She wasn’t entirely confident about what they’d drawn strapped to Kassandra’s hips, but she could make an educated guess. It definitely wasn’t a particularly dignified picture of the Archon’s personal bodyguard to have circulating about the city, Phoibe could see that.

And now that she’d spotted one drawing of Kassandra, she could see her in lots of the others. The distinctive braid stood out like a sore thumb.

“Oh Kassandra,” she sighed, shuffling together a few of the sheets. “See, this is what happens when you… oh… no!”

Kyra wasn’t as immediately recognisable, but on closer inspection, it was definitely her. And again, the artist had done an excellent job. There were her neat braids, her signature amulet. More impressive though, they’d caught her elegant features, her foxy smile and the sweep of her dark eyebrows. Once again, now that she’d spotted her, Phoibe could see her in lots of the pictures. It was bad enough having naked pictures of your bodyguard being passed around, how much worse would it be to have pictures of her bending you over a table like that?

Poor Kyra. She must feel so humiliated. Phoibe sighed and continued gathering them up, paying as little attention to them as possible. Kassandra would be able to shrug it off no doubt. In fact Phoibe wouldn’t be surprised to find that she’d earmarked a couple to send to Clio. But Kyra was different. She hadn’t even wanted Phoibe to see her in the bath at first, let alone this.

Phoibe had had it impressed upon her growing up that there was nothing at all wrong with consensual sex and that the polite thing to do was leave people to their own devices so long as they weren’t hurting anyone else. This was not an occasion when it was appropriate to be polite though. Kyra was upset and Kassandra was upset because Kyra was upset. There were people on the Islands who were a good deal less relaxed about matters sexual, and this would be seriously undermining Kyra’s dignity. When it came down to it, this was just bloody rude!

Well, Phoibe frowned, slipping the papyri into the closest folder and reaching for the last bundle of sheets, whoever this was, they’d picked on the wrong people to embarrass. Kyra was family now, and Phoibe was going to do something about it. She’d dealt with idiots like this before. This mystery artist was really no different from the goat farmer's wife on Kephallonia. All mouth and attitude, always thinking they were -

Phoibe sat down abruptly on her ass. The colourful parchment she’d been holding fell to the floor and she stared at it with wide, horrified eyes. Naked Kassandra had gone some way to explaining the situation. Naked Kassandra with Kyra had explained a good deal more. Naked Kassandra with Kyra and Nike? Well that explained all of it.

Clearly Phoibe wasn’t the only person to have spotted the similarities in appearance between the Archon and the hetaera. “Oh this is _bad_. This is _really_ bad!” Phoibe shook her head miserably. It _shouldn’t_ be bad. Well not apart from the vulgarity of it, but… gods! If Nike wasn’t even allowed to come to the villa to visit friends on account of her being a hetaera? This? Well this didn’t bear thinking about. Phoibe rubbed her face wearily and picked up the parchment.

She was definitely going to do something about this now. And the first action required was to examine these pictures for clues. It was definitely not the sort of investigation that Phoibe had envisioned when she’d broken into the office, but needs must and no one messed with her friends.

Much later Phoibe sat upright, stretching out her aching back and rubbing her weary eyes. It had been a tiring task, squinting into every corner of every picture. They’d stopped even seeming salacious after a while, as she concentrated on line and composition and colour. She’d made some discoveries though.

They were all drawn by the same person, she was absolutely sure of that. They had a particular way of drawing hands, stylised but elegant. They depicted only Kassandra with body hair, which struck her as puzzling, but the pattern of pen strokes they used for her dark curls was very distinctive. And for all their careful detail, they had a habit of missing off a toe.

The materials used were expensive too. The parchment and papyrus was very good quality, just as good as the stack in Kyra’s desk. There was a limited selection of pigments used, but expensive ones. Including the rich red that Phoibe had acquired a sample of by the docks the other day.

That meant that the creepy boat artist was definitely on the list of suspects now. But so were the women at the dressmaker’s she supposed. Phoibe had noticed all the pigments used while she was there. They certainly had access to the same materials and, she assumed, the skills to make the drawings. The pottery workshop seemed a likely source of suspects as well. The artists there would definitely have the ability to draw human anatomy with this level of expertise.

She was thirsty, she realised, rubbing her prickly eyes. There was probably water left in the jug by the doors, but it would have been sitting here for a while. A cool drink straight from the pump was infinitely more appealing. But first she should try to sort the pictures into some kind of order and replace them in their folders. It was going to be apparent that someone had looked at them, but she’d just have to hope that she was low on the list of suspects for that particular infraction.

The door to the compartment was another stumbling block she decided, as she fastened the folders and got off the chair. Hopefully she would be able to jiggle the catch loose so that she could relock the door, after a fashion.

As she crouched down to investigate, a stray sheet of papyrus caught her eye. It had drifted under the chair and she’d nearly missed it altogether. That would have been as good as leaving a signed note on the desk. With a sigh she picked it up and turned over the sheet to see if there were any further last minute clues contained there.

There was one. A huge one. Possibly the only clue she needed. If she had seen this picture first, Phoibe would have been able to wrap up her investigation within minutes. She sat back on the chair gazing at the drawing in her hands.

It depicted Kyra, and whilst, strictly speaking, there was nothing wrong with what it showed her doing, Phoibe could only imagine how humiliated she must have felt when she saw it. Just as humiliated as the flower seller would have felt, had she seen the drawing that the dockside artist had slyly made of her the other day.

The pose was identical, and Phoibe was prepared to bet good drachmae that if she saw the drawing of the flower seller again, that she would find it was missing a toe on one foot. He needed to pay more attention to feet and less to the more private parts of a woman’s anatomy. She narrowed her eyes, grinning triumphantly. Not only did she not have to spend time tomorrow lurking around the town looking for suspects, but the identity of the culprit could not have given her greater satisfaction.

She selected a folder to house the last picture and turned her attention to the compartment door. Aegeus was right, she smiled. The tradesman who worked on this was borderline useless, all it took to reset was a sharp tap with the hilt of the knife she’d used to open it. Carefully replacing the folders, in the correct order, for what that was worth now, she clicked the door closed and tidied the desk.

Phoibe had no real idea of how long she’d spent hunched, poring over pornography. It could have been long enough for Kyra and Kassandra to move down to the kitchen with the aim of satisfying other appetites she supposed. Key in hand, she pressed her ear tightly against the door and listened hard. All was quiet.

Scant minutes later she was standing in the yard, filling a water jug. Taking it into the kitchen she emptied two cups before pausing for breath and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She leaned back against the table, looking out of the open door at the yard, painted ochre by the setting sun. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face.

Oh he was in for it now. Phoibe was going to track him to his home, sneak in, steal the evidence and present it to Kassandra, and she was going to beat him to within an inch of his life for what he’d done. Phoibe would not want to be in his shoes for a barrow load of drachmae.

Imagining the thrashing that was coming his way, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Then she remembered the lovely young flower seller who had been so helpful when she’d been buying flowers for Kyra and felt less sorry. She felt even less sorry when she thought about what Kyra had been through recently. The last thing she needed was this on top of everything else. What she must have felt, knowing those pictures were floating around the island for anyone to see.

Gods! She suddenly remembered Praxos taking that bundle of papyri from Nike and tucking them behind his breastplate. How must he have felt, seeing pictures of his little girl, like that?

Phoibe felt tearful suddenly. It was like Kassandra had said to her the other night. On the surface of it, they seemed like stupid pictures, but they were cruel, and the person who’d made them was cruel. Cruel and cunning to bring Nike into it like that. No doubt he was one of those people who thought hetaerae didn’t have feelings, that they’d surrendered their right to dignity when they took up their profession.

She thought again about the punishment that was brewing for him. Now she didn’t feel sorry for him at all. He deserved every bruise and broken bone. Kassandra and Praxos should take a hand each and break every one of his dirty fingers.

“I’ve as good as got you, you creep. I’m going to find you, I’m going to follow you, I’m going to get the evidence and then I’m going to tell Kassandra and Praxos. You’ll wish you’d never even seen a stick of charcoal when they’ve done with you.”

Years of archery were recorded in the muscles of Kyra’s back and shoulders and Kassandra was studying the tale with lips and tongue as they lay entwined on the floor, between the table and the couch.

“Oh gods, I’ve missed this.” She nuzzled between Kyra’s shoulder blades. “I don’t mean the sex, just… _this_!” Sliding her arms about Kyra’s waist she pulled her back into a tight hug.

“You haven’t missed the sex?” Kyra’s voice was playful. Considering that they were surrounded by the contents of the fruit bowl that she herself had sent sliding from the table as she came hard around Kassandra’s clever, tireless fingers, she felt that her teasing was justified.

Kassandra gave a sheepish chuckle in response and nosed into Kyra’s hair. “Fair point. Well, not _just_ the sex. I’ve missed this bit even more. This… closeness.”

“The post sex glow?” Kyra smiled, running her fingers along the hard cords of Kassandra’s forearms.

“The _after_ sex,” Kassandra laughed softly, her breath warm against Kyra’s shoulders. “It is nice though, right?” She felt Kyra nod and hug her arms more tightly around her. “I understand why you were so upset. Why you… why you couldn’t. But, it felt like someone was driving a wedge between us, for a while there. I don’t want to feel that again.”

“Someone was,” Kyra replied, weariness in her voice. “It was me. I was an idiot.” She heard Kassandra scoffing and shook her head before stretching up an arm and reaching back to knot her fingers in Kassandra’s hair. “But I’ve learned. I love you. Above all else, Kassandra. If you want us to ride into town and make love on one of the pottery stalls, we’ll do it. And if anyone sneers, I’ll tell them to witness how the gods have blessed me.” She tightened her grip on Kassandra’s hair, pulling her head tightly against her shoulder and pressing back hard against her, feeling Kassandra’s soft, huffing laughter against her skin.

“Let’s do that tomorrow, eh? I’m too comfortable here right now.”

Kyra was still carrying most of the extra muscle that she’d built during their time on the Adrestia, and though Kassandra hadn’t mentioned it, the change did revive memories of the fiery young rebel she’d met in a smoky cave, what seemed like a lifetime ago now. Rebel Kyra would have reacted very differently to the current situation she suspected. For one thing she’d have got raging drunk. Then, no doubt, have stealthed into the city, daggers literally drawn, primed to make an example out of someone.

Perhaps Nikos would still be alive had they followed that course of action. The thought lingered for no more than a second. The odds were that a single death would have been replaced with bloodshed in the streets and yet more innocent victims. The impetuous young leader had been just the spark needed to ignite rebellion, but the careful, considered approach was what was required of an Archon.

All the same, she decided, running her hand along the hard muscles of Kyra’s belly, it was nice to occasionally be reminded of the young firebrand she’d fallen in love with that night on the beach. She continued southwards, feeling Kyra wriggling eagerly against her, until her fingers reached the soft curls of her sex, still damp and tangled. Kassandra was initially surprised when Kyra released her grip on her hair in favour of reaching down to guide her hand, pressing Kassandra to touch her harder and faster than she would have predicted.

“It seems I’m not the only one who’s been missing things?” she growled in Kyra’s ear, grinning delightedly as she reared up against her hand, whimpering shamelessly, clutching at her fingers.

“I thought I knew, Kassandra.” Kyra’s words were breathless and stuttery. “I thought I knew how much, but… ah, gods!”

Kassandra held Kyra tight through her shuddering climax, smiling contentedly at the warm slickness wetting her palm, at each weakening twitch around her fingers.

“Should we just lie here on the rug and do this for the rest of the day?” she chuckled, nibbling at Kyra’s ear and squeezing her tightly.

“It’s tempting. We do have supplies close to hand.” Kyra nodded at a nearby peach that she suspected might be a little bruised by its experience.

“Well, before we go any further, I need a drink.” Kassandra pressed a quick kiss to Kyra’s neck before getting to her feet, casually wiping her fingers against her thigh. “Of water!” She caught Kyra’s wary expression. It shifted smoothly to a playfully foxy smile as Kassandra stepped over her on her way to the side table.

“I’d forgotten what a beautiful sight that is.” She flopped onto her back, hands behind her head, grinning up at Kassandra.

“Really? I definitely remember you being up close and very personal with it, just earlier this afternoon.”

Kyra rolled onto her side to watch as Kassandra stood with her back to her, pouring a cup of water. “It wasn’t at such a provocative angle.” She licked her lips, taking in Kassandra’s broad shoulders and well defined back, the elegant line of her spine, the absolutely delicious muscles of her ass. Cocking an eyebrow, she reached out, past the peach.

“Ow, hey!” Kassandra turned as something stung her on the ass. She was just in time to see a walnut bouncing away under the couch. “And what was that for?” Delighted by Kyra’s friskiness, her wounded expression was totally feigned.

“I wanted to see if it would bounce all the way back over here.” Kyra smirked, sitting up, hugging her knees. “Sadly no.” She eyed it with a mischievous pout. “Clearly you need to work on your ass.”

Kassandra gave a gasp of mock outrage and strode back across the room. “_I_ need to work on _my_ ass?! Indeed!”

Kyra laughed excitedly as she found herself swept up in Kassandra's arms and flung over her shoulder. “Put me down this instant. This is no way at all to be treating your Archon.”

“Really?” Kassandra slapped her ass lightly. “From the woman who was just criticising my training regime. Me, the Hero of the Aegean! I think I should put you over my knee and work on your -”

Kyra waited for the end of the suggestion, trembling in anticipation. “Work on my _what_?” She prompted when it seemed the conclusion wasn’t coming.

Kassandra found herself staring open mouthed at an equally astonished Phoibe. Hearing what sounded like innocent chatter, she’d tapped lightly and opened the door only to be confronted by an even more unexpected scenario than the last time she’d peeped in.

“Ah! Phoibe!” Kassandra swallowed audibly, and felt Kyra’s shocked exhalation against the small of her back.

“Phoibe?” She hissed. “Oh gods. Do not put me down, Kassandra.”

“Put you down?” Kassandra misheard and bent to follow instructions.

“No! Do not! Do _not_ put me down.”

“Look, I am _really_ sorry.” Phoibe was inching back out, holding up an apologetic hand. “I heard you laughing and I just came in to tell you that supper is ready. I made soup.”

“Mmm... Soup!” Kassandra gave a nervous grin. “Sounds good. I didn’t realise how late it was.” She turned to glance out onto the balcony and blushingly registered just how exposed Kyra was. “I… well we were...” She raised a hand to shield her. It didn’t help much.

“You were horsing around… again?” Phoibe suggested, dryly. “It’s all right.” She began to close the door, peeping back round at the last moment. “Should I leave some soup on the stove for you?”

“We will be down shortly Phoibe.” Kyra’s studiously polite voice was somewhat muffled behind Kassandra’s back. “Thank you so much.” Hearing the door click shut she sighed and patted Kassandra on the ass. “Now you may put me down.”

“It’s fine, truly.” Kassandra set Kyra on her feet, smiling optimistically. “Phoibe’s seen nearly as many naked women as I have!” She exaggerated wildly, aiming for reassurance.

“Urgh. Not me however.” Kyra searched for and found their clothes, bundled up behind the couch.

“Well. Not strictly accurate.” Kassandra caught her tunic and shook out the worst of the creases.

“No, I’m aware that she’s seen…” Kyra wafted her hand in the general direction of her breasts before pulling on her tunic and continuing, her voice muffled by the cloth. “But my ass has been virgin territory up to now.” As she emerged, she saw Kassandra’s wildly amused expression, her mouth open to respond. “Do not!” Kyra held up a warning finger but Kassandra was laughing and shaking her head.

“I need you to brace yourself, my love, I’ve got something to tell you.”

Phoibe was standing on a footstool by the stove, when Kassandra entered the kitchen a little while later. She was stirring the pot of simmering soup and adjusting the seasoning between sips.

“Smells good.” Kassandra observed truthfully, walking over to perch on the kitchen table. She cleared her throat and laced her fingers in her lap. Fresh from an awkward conversation with Kyra, it was now time to brace herself for another with Phoibe. “Erm, about before?”

“Kassandra, it's all right.” Phoibe looked over her shoulder, still stirring. “I think I sort of get the picture.”

“No. I don’t think you do, not really.”

“I’m pretty sure I _do_.” Phoibe wagged the spoon in her direction. “You and Kyra were… horsing around again… with no clothes on… which… well you don’t surprise me, but Kyra? Well back on Kephallonia I wouldn’t have thought she was much of one for horsing around at all. Now, I can sort of see it, but the no clothes bit is surprising.”

“Right, yes, well, about that.” Kassandra rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “The thing is… well Kyra is sort of -”

“I’m not going to embarrass Kyra about it.” Phoibe stepped down from the stool and came over to her. Given what she’d seen in the office earlier, it was the last thing she wanted to do, tempting as it was to tease Kassandra. “She’s got enough to deal with right now, without me being an ass. I mean with Nikos and the fish,” she added quickly and unnecessarily. “Will you bring the pot to the table, please? It's too heavy for me.”

“Sure. Of course.” Kassandra nodded, hopping to her feet. “Phoibe?” She placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I know I was mean to her when we first met.” Phoibe pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I was jealous and selfish and I feel bad about it now, because you’re right. Kyra is really nice. And all this stuff is awful enough anyway, it's just extra bad that it's happening to her.”

“We are going to get to the bottom of it.” Kassandra carried the pot of steaming soup to the table as Phoibe gathered dishes and spoons. “Starting tomorrow. I’m going into town first thing, and I’m going to question everyone who had anything to do with the creation and delivery of those pastries.”

“Can I come with you?” Phoibe placed a half a slightly stale loaf and a bowl of hard boiled eggs on the table.

“Phoibe? Remember what we talked about? Your promise?”

“No, no,” she protested. “Nothing to do with that, I swear.” They could hear Kyra’s footsteps approaching down the hallway. “I want to go and see the crew, if that’s all right? I’ve finished my letter and I’d like to give it to Barnabas, ask him to arrange passage for it. Is there anything you’d like me to say from you before I seal it?”

Kassandra was shelling an egg, she paused and gave it some consideration. “Yes. Tell them. Well, say that I love them very much, and miss them. And I look forward to the next time we can see each other. Just, well, you can make it sound better than me,” she finished bashfully.

As Kyra entered the kitchen looking wary, Phoibe gave Kassandra a thoughtful, appraising look, then smiled approvingly. “You know what, Kassandra? This time I don’t think that I can.”


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phoibe comes within a whisker of getting her man and we learn a little about Nike's repertoire.

Kassandra’s past few nights had been fitful and harried by nightmares, the details of which had faded into a weary fog within minutes of her waking. Tonight though, despite the grim events of the early hours she fell into a deep and restful sleep. When they’d retired to bed that night, Kyra had not only recovered from her embarrassing encounter with Phoibe, but was playfully amourous, murmuring enticingly explicit suggestions for future evenings’ activities as she straddled Kassandra’s hips and peppered her shoulders and chest with teasing kisses.

Kassandra’s dreams tonight were altogether more pleasant. She was roused from the midst of enjoying one of them by Kyra rolling half on top of her and nuzzling against her ear.

“Good morning, my love.”

“Are you entirely sure?” Kassandra’s eyes were drawn to the open balcony doors.The sky was still midnight blue and the stars were barely fading.

Kyra followed her glance and smiled. “I understand your doubt, but remember there is going to be a degree of normality returning today. At least in so far as Savina arriving to politely summon me to my duties. I thought an early start was called for.”

“I’m not convinced that you’re right about that either.” Kassandra felt Kyra moving over to lie fully on top of her. “She had one foot in the ferry a couple of days ago, Kittos is not going to want her back at work yet.”

“Savina would, I am sure, observe that we_ all_ have one foot in the ferry, all the time. We just choose not to think about it very often. And Kittos is under the impression that she had a slight stomach upset, nothing more.”

Kassandra studied Kyra’s expression for a moment, assessing whether she was serious. She definitely seemed to be.

“And how many brushes with death have _you_ experienced whilst I’ve been away, that you’ve conveniently neglected to mention on my return?”

“Rather fewer than you, impetuous Misthios.” Kyra smiled archly and ran a finger along Kassandra’s nose. “I’ve heard your bedtime stories to Phoibe. Bandits, bears and boars.”

“Ah! They’re rarely brushes with death. Theis checks that everything is where it ought to be, cleans me up, stitches me back together.” She tailed off, seeing Kyra’s barely concealed laughter. “Anyway, you barely even noticed the boar scar!”

“I’ve always been much too distracted by other things when I’ve been down there. Theis does do very good work after all.” Kyra tapped a finger to the barely visible scar above her own eyebrow before pressing a lingering kiss to Kassandra’s smiling lips. Bracing herself on her elbows she looked down at her with a thoughtful expression. “Are you ready, love?” She saw Kassandra’s quizzically cocked eyebrow. “For what the day will hold? To stride through the streets of Mykonos like the emissary of Nemesis?”

Kassandra gave a derisive little snort as she placed her hands in the small of Kyra’s back, tracing the dip of her spine with her fingertips, relishing the faint quiver that she felt run through her.

“Should the gods decide to make their presence felt in all this, it will be too little and too late. Though if there_ is_ one whose hand I would be glad to feel on my back, it would be hers. When I catch who’s behind this though, and I _will_ catch them, they won’t have to wait till Tartarus for their punishment to commence.”

Kyra relaxed on top of Kassandra, resting her head against the solid muscle of her chest and listening to the agitated drumming of her heart. “_We_ will catch them, love,” she said softly. “Together. All of us. And then they will pay the price owing for their wickedness.”

Slowly stroking Kyra’s shoulders, Kassandra lay back staring at the gradually lightening ceiling. She would make a painful but necessary visit to the orphanage first of all. Check when the pastries arrived and who delivered them. What she learned there might influence the path that her investigation would take. But a trip to the bakery was certainly on the cards.

Her mental planning was interrupted by the enticing sensation of Kyra’s fingers teasing up and down the cut of her hips.

“Retribution isn’t the only thing that shouldn’t be delayed, Kassandra. Neither should reward.”

“For me?” She felt Kyra’s nod. “And what have I done to deserve a reward?”

Kyra wriggled down, bracing her arms either side of Kassandra’s waist and giving her an impressively seductive smile.

“For one with a reputation for impulsiveness and for thinking, among other activities, with her fists, you have been so very patient and sensitive, that I feel you’ve more than earned it.” She placed a line of kisses down Kassandra’s sternum and was beginning to drift southward when she felt a gentle hand on her cheek.

“Kyra?” There was a trace of hesitancy in Kassandra’s voice and Kyra raised her head to meet her eyes. “I just want to check. I know how upset you’ve been, by everything. And last night you were... well, gods! I just want to make sure that you’re really all right? That _we’re_ really all right?”

“Oh Kassandra,” Kyra’s smile was soft with genuine amusement. “There you go again, being sensitive, you’re going to ruin your reputation if this gets out. And you’re forgetful too. We’ve both forgotten what things were like before, and not just before all this chaos, but before we left for Kephallonia. Poor Savina prying us apart every other morning. We are going to deal with this. Things are going to return to normal… a slightly new normal admittedly. You and I and Phoibe… we’re going to make a family. And we are not going to change our lives to please some drunks in the tavern. Now!” She kept her eyes locked on Kassandra’s as she dipped her head and placed delicate kisses across her torso. “Would you like this reward, or not?”

“I don’t want a _reward_.” Kassandra trembled as Kyra’s tongue circled her navel. “I want us to fuck because you _want_ me.”

“Oh Kassandra!” Kyra glanced up, smirking, as she nosed into the thick, fragrant curls at Kassandra’s sex. “You have no idea.”

Kassandra draped an arm across her eyes, concentrating on the warm breath against her sensitive folds, instinctively parting her thighs further to admit Kyra. But her invitation was declined. Kyra nipped a tuft of soft curls between her teeth and tugged, gently puppyish, before bracing herself on her hands and licking a leisurely stripe up Kassandra’s belly, lapping into her navel once more, following the dip between the muscles of her torso, introducing just a hint of teeth as she detoured around her breasts, playfully catching at her nipples, feeling every tremor of her body.

“Sweet Misthios,” she whispered, kissing the hollow of her throat. “I want you in ways you can’t imagine.”

“Are you sure?” Kassandra lowered her arm and glanced down. She was smiling but sounded flatteringly breathy, Kyra noticed. “You remember that I shared a bed with a very talented young hetaera for much of my youth? I have a vivid imagination.”

Kyra raised her head and gave Kassandra a playfully disbelieving look. “Tremendously impolite to bring up your infinitely more experienced former girlfriend at a moment like this!” She inched up a little further, following the shell of Kassandra’s ear with her tongue. “Now, just for that, roll over for me,” she growled. “Like a good Spartan.”

The sky was light and clear, the birdsong bright, when Kassandra’s sobbing cry of release rang out, startling two doves from the balcony. Kyra took a moment to catch her breath, brushing her wet fingers along the back of Kassandra's thigh as she felt her relax and melt against the pillows.

“I love you, Kassandra.” She knelt up and began to kiss along the valley of her spine, catching the drops of sharp salt sweat that had gathered in the small of her back, before continuing upwards. Reaching her shoulders, Kyra gathered Kassandra’s tousled hair and moved it aside to bare the back of her neck. “Now, your turn, I think?”

Phoibe had risen early, for a number of reasons.

She hadn’t wanted a distracted Kassandra to go wandering off into town first thing and forget about her. She wanted to make a final check of her letters and ensure they were securely wrapped and sealed. She was too fired up and agitated at the prospect of advancing her investigation to sleep much at all. And last but not least, she had missed Cymone and knew she would be back at work today.

It turned out that Cymone had missed Phoibe just as much, and she wasn’t reserved about showing it, sweeping her into a maternal hug and kissing her head repeatedly before holding her at arm’s length for inspection.

“You’ve only been at home a couple of days, I’m not going to have withered away,” Phoibe laughed delightedly.

“No, you’ve not withered.” Cymone put an assessing hand on top of Phoibe’s head. “I’m pretty sure you’ve grown though!”

“Not in two days,” she giggled happily, wrapping her arms as far as they’d reach around Cymone’s hips and snuggling against her.

“It was too bloody quiet at home, I’ll tell you that. I should have taken you with me, instead of leaving you rattling around this place with just those two for company. Did they look after you?”

“I survived,” Phoibe eyed the breakfast preparations appreciatively. Cymone had brought some sort of spicy smelling sausage. Phoibe’s mouth watered in anticipation and she hopped up to sit on the end of the kitchen table for a better view of proceedings. There were fresh flatbreads warming and a bowl of beaten eggs awaiting Cymone’s attention.

Cymone glanced back over her shoulder and gave her a wary look. “Are they all right? I was worried about them. Well about the Archon particularly. These things all seem to have been aimed at breaking her spirit.”

“Kassandra was upset too!” Phoibe defended around a wad of mint. “She’s really sad about that little boy.”

“Oh gods, of course she must be.” Cymone turned around, smiling apologetically. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that, sweetheart. Just that she’s probably been better able to deal with, well, with some of the things that have been going on.” She looked a bit evasive and sighed gratefully when Savina appeared at the door. “And look who else is here!”

“Hello Savina,” Phoibe gave her a cheerful wave. “I didn’t know if you’d be back yet. You look much better.” This was true. She was still a little paler than usual, but nothing that couldn’t be dismissed as fashion. And she was smirking contentedly for some reason.

“I feel much better, thank you Phoibe. A little tired, but otherwise quite well.”

“You certainly look pleased about something,” Cymone observed. “Smiling like the cat that got the cream and found there was a mouse swimming in it. I take it Kittos is back?”

“No,” Savina shook her head. “I mean yes, he is, but that’s not why I’m smiling. It's just. Well it's a relief to be back at work and… well… unexpectedly pleasant to find aspects of routine returning to normal.”

“You’re being very cryptic, young lady.” Cymone was busy with the sausages, the whole kitchen smelt deliciously of spiced meat and fresh bread.

Phoibe had to agree with her though, she thought, swallowing the wet mass of herbs she’d been chewing, and eyeing Savina curiously. She was about to probe a little further when Kassandra entered, tying off the end of her braid, and practically swaggering.

“Ah… Savina!” She stopped mid stride, adjusting her belt. “I’m glad to see you back and looking well. Sorry about…” She tailed off, waving a hand in the general direction of “upstairs”.

“Ohh!” Cymone laughed. “_That _routine! Well yes, I’m sure we’re all delighted that normal service has been resumed there.”

“Hello, you!” Kassandra strode over and wrapped her from behind in a huge bear hug. “We missed you!”

“You missed your breakfast, you mean,” Cymone tried to sound reproving, but pleasure bubbled just below the surface.

“Not true!” Kassandra gave her a playful squeeze. “We missed supper as well, didn’t we Phoibe?”

“Three grown adults about the place and you can’t rustle up a decent meal between you, for shame!”

“I made soup,” Phoibe defended. “But it wasn’t as delicious as yours.”

“Oh it was good though.” Kassandra kissed Cymone’s cheek and came to sit beside Phoibe ruffling her hair as she passed. “But it wasn’t the same without you around, Cymone. First morning back and something smells absolutely delicious?”

“Well, I thought we deserved a bit of a treat, all things considered.”

“What is that wonderful smell?” Praxos dipped his head under the door, sniffing theatrically. “Is that spiced boar sausage?”

“Nose like a hound,” Cymone laughed, shaking her head.

“We’re eating like kings this morning, little hunter.” He swept Phoibe off the table into a huge hug and kissed her forehead. “Or queens I suppose I should say?” he grinned, popping her down onto her feet.

“Where were you yesterday?” Phoibe asked as he strode over to the stove and more or less repeated Kassandra’s performance with Cymone. “I missed you.” She had... eventually. Though in all honesty his absence had been very useful during her visit to the office.

“I went to the tavern, had a few drinks with friends, we toasted young Nikos, sent him on his way with songs and stories as it should be. But I missed you too, little one. Shall we go and milk the goat? Bet Kassandra is eager for a drink of milk while she waits for those delicious sausages eh!”

“Well, while she’s waiting she can set the table for us, eh? If you would, Kassand - oh, gods’ teeth!” Cymone turned and found Orion sitting prettily right behind her, head erect, eyes focused on the pan, thick strands of drool sliding from his jowls.

She looked from him to the pan to Kassandra, who smirked knowingly and watched as Cymone took one of the cooked sausages from the plate by the stove and tore it in half with seemingly heat proof fingers.

“Here you go,” she blew on it a few times. “Be careful it's still…” she watched it disappear with a bare minimum of chewing, “hot.”

By the time Kyra appeared at the kitchen door everyone bar Savina was sitting around the table, eating sausage and egg with varying degrees of wolfish eagerness.

“My stomach isn’t quite ready for spiced boar just yet.” Savina explained when Kyra queried why she was standing by the door sipping an infusion of mint and fennel rather than sitting with the others at breakfast.

“Come and join us, Kyra.” Praxos beamed, forking in another mouthful. “You used to love these.”

“Yes, come, sit, Archon,” Cymone was already by the stove, filling a plate. “From the sound of it, you’ve worked up a bit of an appetite this morning.”

Praxos spotted Kyra’s scowl of reproof. Before she could convert it into a verbal reprimand, he wiped his beard with the back of his hand and chimed in. “Remember that time we stole a whole sack load of these from that asshole of a butcher?”

“The butcher’s an asshole?” Phoibe queried. “I thought he was quite nice.”

“Not _that_ butcher,” Praxos shook his head. “The one before him.”

“And don’t say asshole,” Kassandra mumbled around a mouthful of sausage and bread.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” Cymone swatted her around the back of the head with a cloth as she put the laden plate down on the table and pulled out a chair for Kyra.

“And the Archon stole sausages?” Phoibe was wiping around her plate with a piece of bread. “That doesn’t sound right.” She dropped it under the table for Orion.

“She wasn’t the Archon then of course.” Praxos grinned, taking a drink of water. “She was a handy little pick pocket though. Come on Kyra,” he said softly, nodding at her breakfast. “Tell us the story. After all, you need my input in the office this morning, no? And I’m not leaving this table till I’ve eaten a couple more of these.”

That had been fun, Phoibe decided later, as she helped Cymone clear the table. Even given the nature of current affairs, it had been enjoyable to sit down to a delicious breakfast with people who were definitely beginning to feel like family.

It was nice to see Praxos and Kyra reminiscing about the more pleasant aspects of their early life together. It was somehow reassuring to see Kyra relax enough to lean in against Kassandra as she told the tale of how, as a child, she’d slyly lifted the best meal she and Praxos had tasted in an age, and comforting to see her lower her guard enough to bend and kiss Kassandra goodbye as she made her way to the door. Best of all, today Phoibe hadn’t needed to prompt her for a hug. She’d been worried that yesterday’s awkward encounter might have been a setback. But Kyra walked over, and after seeking consent with a questioning tilt of her head, she crouched and wrapped Phoibe in a snug embrace.

“Have a good time today,” she’d urged, stroking her back. “Give my greetings to the crew.” Kyra had got to her feet and cradled Phoibe’s cheek, suddenly looking serious. “Be careful too. The guards are making extra patrols. If you’re concerned about anything, you find them, all right?”

“The Archon was right before, little one.” Cymone’s voice shook her out her reverie. “You stay near the busy parts of town today.”

“I’ll be with the crew most of the time.” Phoibe settled for vague evasion, not wanting to flat out lie. “I’ll be safe with them.”

“That you will.” Cymone gave her a wry smile. “Never thought I’d hear myself say this, but you stay with those big rough sailors, all right?”

Kassandra had the misfortune to give her pretty much the same advice for the third time in rapid succession that morning.

Phoibe rolled her eyes wearily. “I’m going to be on the ship, with the crew, nothing is going to happen.”

Judging by the series of expressions that flickered across Kassandra’s face, she was clearly considering some sort of reproof. Phoibe slid in before she could form one.

“What are your plans for today? You’re going to begin your investigation?”

Kassandra wasn’t wearing her dress armour this morning, having opted instead for a set of well worn old leathers that afforded less protection but allowed for greater flexibility and ease of movement. She could be swift and stealthy in them, as well as looking less like the fist of the Archon, Phoibe supposed.

“I’m not entirely sure.” Phoibe’s distraction seemed to have been successful, Kassandra was pouting thoughtfully as she fiddled with the fastening on one of her bracers. “I’m going to the orphanage first though. To check if they noticed anything odd about those pastries.”

“Not likely, I don’t think.” Phoibe shook her head. “If they’d spotted something odd, they wouldn’t have let the children eat them.”

“Good point,” Kassandra stopped, grimacing irritably at the fastening. “Can you give me a hand here, Phoibe?” She hunkered down, holding out her forearm. “Please?” She watched as Phoibe untangled the strapping and began again. “They might have noticed something about the person who delivered them. Or perhaps they were left unattended where someone could have tampered with them.”

“I don’t suppose anyone at the orphanage would have done it?” Phoibe suggested hesitantly. “There you go.” She patted the bracer. “Nice and tight.”

“Thank you, little one,” Kassandra got to her feet, flexing her fingers, testing the fit. She thought back to what she’d seen during her time helping Rhea and Theis. None of the staff had left and their distress had been genuine, she was sure of that. “No. I’m confident that no one there did this. But it's good to keep an open mind. Look Phoibe, I’m not going to nag at you about this, but -”

“Stay near the ship?” Phoibe rolled her eyes. “I promise Kassandra. I’m not going to go looking for trouble. Seeing what happened to Savina was warning enough, I swear.”

She was clearly convincing enough. With an affable pat of the cheek Kassandra bid her goodbye and set off for the orphanage.

Phoibe was still some way off the Adrestia when she heard her name being called excitedly. She recognised Gelon’s voice among the chorus, or her vocabulary at least, and peered upward, shielding her eyes with a hand. Gelon, Odessa and Thyia were swinging their legs on the topmost spar and waving enthusiastically.

“Coming aboard, youngster?” Gelon shouted down as she drew closer.

“Yes. I’ve got letters to send!” Phoibe waved aloft the neatly wrapped packet she’d had tucked under her arm to this point. “I just need to see Barnabas.”

An hour later she was sitting astride the top spar between Thyia and Gelon, who was keeping a watchful eye on her. Odessa had a sack of dates on her lap and they were competing to see who could spit the stones the furthest.

“It’s fantastic up here,” Phoibe exclaimed, peering around her. “You can see nearly the whole city. Is that the orphanage?” she swung out an over-enthusiastic arm and felt Gelon grab her leg firmly.

“Fuck me, youngster, just be careful. If you fall off here and break your fucking neck Kassandra will turn me inside out.”

“And not in the good way,” Odessa mumbled around a mouthful of dates, receiving a kick in the ankle from Thyia for her trouble.

“I bet you can see everyone in the whole place,” Phoibe observed thoughtfully.

“See them? Aye, happen,” Gelon nodded. “You can’t always fucking recognise them, mind you. Depends.”

“Mmm, you can generally spot people you know,” Thyia was refusing to spit her date stones and was putting them back in the bag, much to everyone’s annoyance. “The guards for instance, you can pick them out, and Kassandra obviously.”

“The lovely Savina every morning first thing,” Odessa smirked, reaching into the bag. “Damn it Thyia! There’s as many stones as dates in here. That reminds me, Phoibe, why don’t you come to the bath house with us? We’re making ourselves pretty for the lady in question. Apparently we’re taking her and Praxos to Delos tomorrow.”

“Aye, that big handsome fucker of a guard came to tell us. We’ve got a shitload of pots and cloth to take it seems.”

“Which big handsome guard?” Phoibe swung her legs with a vigor that earned her a clip round the ear from Gelon.

“What did I just fucking say? Sit still you little fidget, you’re taking sodding years off me. The one without the ear, with all the fucking scars.”

“Ah, Leto,” Phoibe beamed. “She’s lovely. She let me hold her sword.”

“Not a fucking word, ‘Dessa.” Gelon held up a warning finger.

“You have very little faith in me,” Odessa chuckled. “_Big_ sword I imagine?” She darted a swift sideways glance at Phoibe.

“I know her scars are a bit unnerving at first, but she has lovely eyes,” Thyia said, a trifle dreamily. “Actually now I come to think about it, for a jealous woman the Archon surrounds herself with an abundance of attractive women.” There was an uncharacteristic hint of bitterness in her voice.

“You can collect a lot of beautiful pots, you don’t have to eat out of all of them,” Phoibe said, nibbling at a date. She felt three sets of surprised eyes looking at her. “What?” she shrugged. “Selene used to say it.”

“Pottery collector is she?” Odessa asked dryly.

“_You’d_ know, I imagine,” Thyia pursed her lips. “Anyway, apparently Savina has business over yonder.” She nodded curtly in the direction of Delos. “So we all thought we’d smell a bit nicer for her.”

Phoibe sent a date stone flying over the side and eyed all three of them accusingly. “You _are_ aware that Savina is married?”

“How could we fucking not be?” Gelon laughed. “To the sodding Adonis of the Silver Islands by all accounts. Still, doesn’t mean we can’t make the atmosphere a little more fragrant for her.”

“She always smells delicious,” Thyia sighed. “Like roses. Anyway, are you coming with us Phoibe? It will be fun.”

Under any other set of circumstances it did sound like an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon. Phoibe had heard of public baths, but there was no bath house on Sami. For a moment she was sorely tempted. But she’d come here to search for her creepy acquaintance from the docks and wherever he was going to be, it was unlikely to be the bath house… or at least she supposed so.

“It’s just women is it?” She frowned pensively.

“Too fucking right.” Gelon gave her knee a reassuring pat. “The men’s is a totally separate building here.”

“But could men sneak in?” Presumably a bath house full of naked women would be ripe bait for a man like that.

“Be the last place they ever did fucking sneak,” Gelon chuckled. “That’s where the majority of the women guards are posted.”

“Don’t worry Phoibe,” Thyia stroked her back softly. “We wouldn’t take you anywhere dangerous. You know that, surely? Having you sitting up here notwithstanding of course.”

“It does sound like fun, but I don’t have any coin on me.'' The excuse sounded feeble to Phoibe’s ears even as it was emerging from her mouth.

Odessa gave a derisive snort and spat a date stone an impressive distance. “We invited you, it’s our treat. We’ll even get you some of those little crispy dough ball things with crushed nuts that they make.”

“It’s a bit extravagant though, really, when we have a bathroom at home.”

“Ooh, get you! Bathroom at home.” Odessa laughed delightedly. “It’s not just about the bathing, it's the socialising, the tasty little snacks, the trimming Gelon’s toenails!”

“I’ll definitely go with you next time,” Phoibe nodded, wiping her sticky fingers on the skirt of her tunic. “I don’t really feel up to it today.”

Odessa seemed about to continue but Gelon gave her a meaningful look. “ Phoibe’s said no. Sometimes you just aren’t in the fucking mood, happens to all of us, periodically.” She gave Odessa a broad wink which Thyia caught the tail end of. “You know, youngster.” Gelon ruffled Phoibe’s hair fondly. “If there’s ever anything that you want to talk about. That you perhaps aren’t comfortable talking to Kassandra about, because Zeus knows she can be hard fucking work at times, well, you can always come and talk to us.”

“Yes!” Thyia caught her drift. “About… anything. Feelings? Changes? You can even talk to Odessa, she can be serious if she has to be, and she knows a bit about boys.”

Phoibe felt the conversation had taken a sudden swerve without her noticing, she gave Odessa a dubious look.

“A bit,” Odessa nodded. “But you’re not likely to get an unbiased opinion. Far better to talk to Ife about boys.”

“Why would I want to talk to Ife about boys?” Phoibe frowned.

“Because she’s our resident fucking expert,” Gelon laughed. “There’s Theis as well of course.”

“Theis is an expert about boys?” Phoibe asked, thoroughly confused now.

The three women exchanged pensive looks. “You know, I’ve no fucking idea now you come to mention it.” Gelon considered.

“Medically, I suppose,” Thyia said, thoughtfully.

“I have no idea why you think I’d want to talk to Theis about boys.” Phoibe shook her head. “Or Ife for that matter. Though I do want her to draw me a picture of those massive lizard creatures she was talking about.”

“Well, just bear it in mind. For the future.” Thyia patted her knee.

“I want to ask her about this stuff on the reef too. I was thinking that might be something that Sophitia would be interested in, for next time. I didn’t want to mention it this -” Phoibe stopped mid-sentence as something caught her eye down in the streets below.

A wide brimmed hat. And beneath it a distinctive chubby figure with a bustling gait. Gods! What were the chances? That he’d show up here the first time she came to look for him.

“Well!” She clapped her hands. “I should be getting back, I promised Kassandra that I wouldn’t stay out for too long. Can I come up here again? It would be a great place to draw from. I could draw the whole city nearly from up here.”

Gelon accompanied Phoibe down the rigging, keeping her well within reach the whole time. When they hopped down onto the deck she slipped an arm around Phoibe’s shoulders before she could dart away.

“You’re sure that you’re all right, youngster? I know there is some weird fucking shit going on right now. Upsetting fucking shit. And you’re in a new place… growing up. If you want to come aboard and have a chat, about anything? You know where I am, right?”

Phoibe had been initially frustrated at the delay, but looking up she saw the concern etched into Gelon’s features. Though she wasn’t entirely sure what was behind it, she appreciated the intent.

“I know Gelon. I’m all right though, really. It is strange at the villa, it's still new and now Kassandra and Kyra, well everyone really, are upset about what’s happening. But they’ll catch whoever did it. And then things can start to get back to normal, well, new Mykonos normal. Thank you.” She reached up and gave Gelon a firm hug. “I’ll see you soon. Have fun at the bath house. I imagine it's full of pretty, available women eh?” She grinned cheekily as she hopped up onto the deck rail.

Gelon gave an outraged snort and swatted Phoibe’s ass playfully. “Pretty _and_ available, or just pretty available? Get yourself back to your palatial fucking home, with its personal bathroom. Giving me advice that’ll get me kicked out of the sodding bath house,” she laughed.

“Not if you’re discreet.” Phoibe leapt down onto the dockside and gave her a wave before setting off in the direction of her quarry.

It had been so easy to see the layout of the streets from up on the top spar. Down at ground level, everything was hot and bustling and crowded. Phoibe shouldered her way through gaggles of people milling between the stalls, murmuring apologies as she went. Her progress felt agonisingly slow to her, and by the time she reached the corner where she’d spotted the artist, he was nowhere in sight. She peered around desperately, looking for a flash of the dusty blue robe he’d been wearing. There were too many people though, too close together.

If she could get a higher vantage point perhaps she’d be able to pick him out over the heads of the crowd. He wasn’t tall, but his hat was distinctive. She spotted a likely looking porch roof, and it was the work of a moment to scurry up and stand on tiptoes, surveying the streets.

Phoibe stood there for some minutes, squinting against the bright sun. There were only two ways he could have gone. As far as she was aware, the road to her left led up towards the upper terraces of housing. It was unlikely that he’d go that way, surely? Not because of a lack of potential subjects of course. After all, the flower seller had just been sitting arranging her goods. There would be any number of women doing laundry or preparing the evening meal. But if Mykonos was anything like Sami, they would be doing it in company, bantering back and forth, and would certainly spot a suspicious looking character setting up his drawing board across the street.

No, he had to have gone to the right. The road there was lined with small shops and eventually led out to the fields and ultimately to the temple.There would be far more places for him to sit unobtrusively watching women working. And just as the boats had provided a plausible cover subject for him at the docks the other day, the shop displays, the silos in the fields, the stalls near the temple would all give him cover for his true intentions. She was just assessing how feasible it would be to make her way to the edge of town sticking entirely to the rooftops, when she caught sight of his hat.

Quickly committing his position to memory she hopped down and set off, darting between shoppers and stall holders. When she reached the point where she’d marked him he had obviously moved on, she’d expected that. But he couldn’t have got far, surely? She peered round but once again there was no sign of him. For a portly fellow he was certainly moving through the crowds with ease, she thought bitterly as she wandered around for a while, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Eventually though she had to concede that she’d lost him. It would have been asking a lot to have caught him at her first attempt. She should make good on her explanation to Gelon and the others and go back to the villa, she was feeling a little peckish, the dates had been a tasty appetiser, no more.

As she retraced her steps, more slowly now, disappointment weighing heavy on her, she caught sight of a small shop doorway. Outside was a narrow table with bowls containing brightly coloured powders and bundles of charcoal. Phoibe made her way over, her interest piqued. The place sold pigments and brushes. And her quarry had been in the vicinity just a few minutes ago. Perhaps all wasn’t lost yet.

She stepped inside. The room was small and lined with shelves and pigeon holes containing rolls of parchment, stacks of papyrus, jars and bowls of brightly hued powders, stones, earthy clays. An elderly man turned from grinding pigment as she entered.

“Greetings, young lady, and what may I do for you today?”

“What a lovely shop you have.” She opened, politely, clasping her hands behind her back and looking around approvingly. “I had no idea it was here.”

“For longer than you’ve been alive my dear,” the shopkeeper chuckled. His plain tunic was a vibrant testament to his trade, covered in smears of charcoal and splotches of pigments. “Are you an artist?” He added to the inadvertent artwork by wiping his fingers against his chest, leaving a couple of faint streaks of ochre.

“I try. I mean I’d like to be one day,” she nodded. “I’ve got a long way to go though.”

“We all have my dear. It is a journey without end, filled with frustrations and delights. Now. What may I interest you in?”

Phoibe felt suddenly sheepish and made a little performance of patting her pockets. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even know that your shop was here, I’ve come without coin. I will definitely come back though, with full pockets.” She gazed around wide eyed at the jewel like displays.

“I shall look forward to it, my dear.” The old man’s eyes crinkled pleasantly as he smiled. “It’s important to nurture the next generation. Perhaps when you return you might bring some examples of your work for me to admire?”

“I’d love to,” Phoibe smiled, turning towards the door. “That reminds me. When I was coming this way I thought I noticed someone I knew leaving, but he’d gone by the time I got here.”

“You are the first would-be customer I have had in a few minutes.” He had picked up his pestle ready to continue work, but stopped now, his straggly eyebrows knitted with thought. “Oh no, there was a fellow. Well nourished, large hat. He’s dropped in a few times for supplies. He certainly gets through a tremendous amount of ink.”

I’ll bet he bloody does, Phoibe thought to herself, assuming a bright smile and nodding. “That sounds like him! Do you know where he lives perhaps?”

“I can’t say I do,” the shopkeeper shook his head. “I’ve never had call to deliver anything to him. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing really.” Phoibe clasped her hands behind her back and assumed a look of theatrical innocence. “I met him by the docks a few days ago and he gave me some useful hints. I wanted to show him what I’d drawn since.”

“Ah, I see.” A troubled look came over his face. “I hope you will forgive an old man for giving unsolicited advice?” He plucked at his lower lip anxiously. “But if you wish for him to see your new work, perhaps meet him in some place where there are other people around? I’m sure your mater and pater have given you similar advice on many occasions. Forgive me the intrusion.”

It certainly sounded like something they would have told her, though her memory of them was vague now. Selene, however, most definitely had.

“That’s quite all right.” She shook her head at his apology. “It’s very good advice, I’ll remember it.”

He brightened at her assurance and turned back to his bench, rummaging around among the pots and bowls.

“If you wish to meet with him I would suggest the dockside or the marketplace,” he spoke without turning. “He has brought in pieces to show me before now. He is clearly very talented. There is a depiction of our beloved Artemis Agratora that is truly excellent. I tried to buy it from him, but he doesn’t sell his work alas.”

No, thought Phoibe sourly. He leaves it around the place for people to find and laugh about.

“I did not like the way he spoke about her though.” The shopkeeper was scowling when he turned to her. “Most disrespectful, sacrilegious in fact. That’s why I think it would be wise of you to meet him in a public place, if you decide to look for him.” He handed her a small cloth pouch, just a twist really, and gave her a smile. “That’s for you.”

Phoibe opened it up and saw a couple of spoonfuls of green blue powder. “Oh, I can’t take this, thank you though.” She held it out towards him, but he waved a dismissive hand.

“I saw you admiring it, and off course you can take a free sample,” he chuckled. “How else are you to know the quality of my products.”

Phoibe considered for a moment then refastened it tightly. “Thank you very much.” She tucked it safely away in her pocket. “It’s beautiful, I know just what I’m going to use it for.”

“Well you bring it and show me when you’re finished.” He held up an admonishing finger as a couple of middle aged men in dusty aprons entered.

“I definitely will.” She edged around them towards the door. “And I’ll buy some next time.”

“You’re catching them young, Dikaios. Stealing their pocket money are you?” She heard the men laughing as she emerged onto the street, blinking in the harsh sunlight.

Well it hadn’t been a particularly profitable morning, she thought, tucking her thumbs into her belt and ambling back towards the docks. In the short time she’d been in the shop, the crowds had thinned and she was able to walk easily, watching the little puffs of dust that she kicked up with each step. Apart from the pigment, she smiled. That was very nice. It would be perfect for the waves, that clear jewel like colour of the deep water when the sun hit it just so.

And now she came to think about it, she _had_ learned something. Her quarry must be on the island, he must live somewhere nearby. There was no way he was coming over from Delos just to buy ink, surely? He was here somewhere, and somewhere not too far away. If he was coming to the docks and the market to draw, then he must live within walking distance. She’d caught no smell of horses on him when he’d been leaning over her, and he’d been so close that she had been able to feel his moist breath against her ear. She gave a shudder. No. He was on Mykonos, and he wasn’t far.

She was so deep in thought that she walked right into the back of someone, and was taking a breath to apologise when a familiar voice cut her off.

“Hey, steady! That’s only permissible if you’re paying me. Oh, gods, sorry! Hello Phoibe. Watch where you’re going sweetheart.” Nike’s irritated expression had melted into a warm smile. “What are you up to that has you so lost in thought?”

“I’m sorry, Nike, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I didn’t hurt you, did I? Can I help you carry that?” Phoibe nodded to the large bag that Nike was nursing in her arms.

“It’s on the heavy side.” She said, doubtfully.

“I’m stronger than I look!” Phoibe grinned, flexing a stringy bicep.

Nike hadn’t been exaggerating she realised, once she had it cradled against her chest, but it smelt divine.

“Peaches.” Nike explained. “They’re something of a business expense, but these are rather more ripe than I was anticipating, truth be told. I’ll have to palm some off on Mikis. Do you like peaches, Phoibe? Help yourself.”

It was an impossible instruction to follow under the circumstances and Nike laughed, reclaiming the bag and handing over a fruit.

“You can take some home with you,” she smiled, watching as Phoibe took a huge bite and a trail of juice ran down her arm. “What_ are _you doing in this part of town, by the way?”

Chewing carefully gave her a moment to think, but she needn’t have worried. Eager voices calling her name, followed by someone putting their hands over her eyes, removed the need for an excuse.

“Guess who!” Came a throaty, theatrically gruff voice.

“That’s easy, Odessa,” Phoibe chuckled. “Your accent gives you away.”

“What accent? I don’t have an accent.” Odessa fell into step beside her.

“You do, darling,” Thyia joined them. “But it's a really pretty one, so that’s fine.” She slipped her arm through Odessa’s and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“I thought you were all going to the bath house?” Phoibe was puzzled.

“We were! We did!” Thyia sounded excited. “But you’ll never guess what happened!”

“Sodding snakes, in the fucking bath house.” Gelon had been bringing up the rear, towelling her hair dry as she caught up with them. “All over the fucking shop. Like a nest of the squirmy little bastards. Except they weren’t little. Round my fucking legs and everywhere.”

“Three guesses who found them?” Odessa laughed, jerking her thumb back in Gelon’s direction.

“We weren’t even in the pool,” Thyia grinned, “when we heard this scream.”

“It was not a fucking scream, I shouted.” Gelon protested from beneath the towel.

“I’m sorry, Gelon, but you screamed.” Thyia did her best to sound apologetic.

“A girly scream.” Odessa was clearly delighted.

“The fuck I did! Gelon dropped the towel around her shoulders and raised a finger. Then she spotted Nike, sauntering along beside Phoibe, looking amused. “I’m sorry miss,” Gelon blushed, slowly lowering her finger, her eyes fixed on Nike. “I didn’t realise we had company.”

Thyia and Odessa watched, with raised eyebrows as Gelon awkwardly combed her fingers through her hair, roughly parting it at one side, before making an ultimately futile attempt to smooth the creases out of her damp tunic.

“Not at all.” Nike inclined her head. “I quite understand that the rough and tumble of a life at sea requires a certain robustness of language. But forgive me, I am assuming. These two I know work the Adrestia, but I don’t believe that _we’ve_ ever had the pleasure?”

“See Gelon,” Odessa smirked mischievously. “If you didn’t spend so much time moping in your cabin, you could have been down the tavern with us, having the pleasure of the beautiful Nike.”

“Don’t be vulgar!” Thyia nudged her sharply.

“Gelon’s just rolled up with her mouth like a midden heap and you’re telling _me_ not to be vulgar?” Odessa’s eyebrows went on a journey.

“There’s vulgar and then there’s vulgar, and you were being the latter.” Thyia said obscurely.

“Thyia is quite correct,” Nike agreed placidly. “Rein yourself in, Odessa.”

“I’m all for a tight rein at times,” Odessa began but stopped in her tracks at Nike’s expression.

“You know, Thyia,” Nike shook her head. “You’re a remarkably pretty girl, I’m certain you could trade Odessa in for a partner who’s less of a liability in public.” She turned smoothly and fixed Gelon with a warm smile. For her part she hadn’t taken her eyes off Nike since she’d emerged from beneath the towel. “If perhaps Gelon here were unattached, say?”

Before Thyia could wonder aloud about just how much of a trade up that would be in the liability stakes, she was interrupted.

“Gelon is Barnabas’ lieutenant.” Phoibe had been looking from Nike to Gelon and back again during all this and she was pretty sure she’d identified the cause of the stupefied expression on Gelon’s face. She clearly needed a hand. “She knows how to do _everything _on board!” She gave an expansive gesture, dripping peach juice around as she did so. “And she’s brilliant at needlework! And _totally_ unattached as it happens.”

“Phoibe’s giving you the big sell here, Gelon,” Odessa grinned, “don’t let her down.”

Phoibe had paused for a moment to give Gelon an opportunity to blow her own horn if she so desired. She didn’t seem inclined to. Instead she was fidgeting around, tucking damp waves behind her ear and licking her lips nervously.

Nike took pity on her. “Needlework? How intriguing. In the form of nets and sails?” She asked politely.

There was an awkward moment as Gelon fiddled with the corner of her towel and cleared her throat.

“Er, no,” she replied croakily. “Well I mean yes, but no, not, well not what Phoibe was…”

Odessa rolled her eyes and opened her mouth but before she could give vent to whatever unhelpful comment she had gestating, Phoibe chimed in.

“Gelon can totally mend sails. And clothes! She mended no end of tears in my tunics on the way over. But she does really pretty things too. You should see the lovely quilt she’s made. It’s all -”

“That’s enough now, Phoibe, thank you” Gelon mumbled, patting the back of Phoibe’s head. “No one want to hear about my fuc..my quilt.”

“Well I don’t know about the others,” Nike was holding the sack of peaches out for Odessa and Thyia to take one, “but I’m intrigued by the news of your hidden talent. It would be inappropriate to bring it to the tavern of an evening, I suppose?” She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“Well, truth be told, I’m not great in noisy crowds.” Gelon rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

“Between you and me, Gelon, I rather prefer quiet conversation with agreeable company,” Nike tilted her head, to meet Gelon’s eyes and smiled softly.

“Perfect!” Phoibe exclaimed. “You could have a quiet drink together -”

“Phoibe!” Gelon hissed.

“And Gelon could show you her - ow, what?!” Phoibe turned as Gelon grabbed the shoulder of her tunic and tugged, quite hard.

“That’s enough, thank you Phoibe.” Gelon whispered urgently.

“Well, it's not a ridiculous idea, is it?” Nike extended a hand. Nestled in her palm was a velvety peach, its blush a perfect match for the one warming Gelon’s cheeks as she nervously reached out to take it. “Or _is_ it?” Nike's voice was soft but serious.

“Oh ho ho, Gelon!” Odessa growled playfully. She seemed about to say more, but was stopped by a hard poke in the ribs from Thyia.

“We need to get back to the ship.” She tugged Odessa’s arm, hard. “We’ve things to prepare for tomorrow.”

“Have we?” Odessa was clearly about to protest. “Because below decks is clear and ready to - “

Thyia stopped her with a kiss. “There are a couple of things that need handling in our cabin,” she lured with a suggestive smile, taking her hand and dragging her away.

“Well that was smooth!” Nike laughed. “But Phoibe’s right. It would be pleasant to meet, share a meal, a little conversation, no?”

Gelon was still gazing at the peach in her hand. “No. No! I mean yes. Yes it would, I mean, some time, yes. I... thank you for the peach.” She nodded and looked over at Thyia and Odessa’s departing backs. “I should go and lend a hand. Well not with _them_,” she blushed. “I mean on the ship, things to do. I…” She made a vague gesture in the general direction of the Adrestia. “We’ve got a fuc - a load of things to make ready… for tomorrow that is,” she backed away seemingly reluctant to take her eyes off Nike. “You’re lovely...I mean _it's_ lovely… it _was_ lovely… to meet you...I should… go…” she stumbled over both her words and feet as she turned at last and followed the others.

“Well, that was interesting.” Nike observed as they watched her leave.

“I’ll say!” Phoibe shook her head in disbelief. “For one thing, I’ve never heard her string so many words together without one of them being fuck.”


End file.
